


we are all meant for softer things (even, especially, you)

by meekinheritance



Series: we are soft [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Consent, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Consent, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Related, Genderfluid, Good Intentions, Humor, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Peter Parker has the Venom Symbiote, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Protective Wade Wilson, Recovery, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Some Plot, Superfamily, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, Venom Is a Good Bro, briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-18 17:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekinheritance/pseuds/meekinheritance
Summary: Wade is contracted to kill Spider-man, but after some surveillance he decides the hero is just too chill to kill. Too sweet to defeat. Too squish to extinguish. Too golden boy to destroy. (Etcetera.)Somehow, instead of blowing up in his face, it avalanches into a tentative friendship filled with crime-fighting, Netflix bingeing, top notch take-out, city-saving, shenanigans, weird alien symbiotes, and personal growth.Which is pretty much when Wade knows he’s fucked. But like, maybe in the good way, for once?





	1. we have more in us than we know

**Author's Note:**

> pretty excited about this fic you guys. I've been reading Spider-man comics and into the movies since I was a kid and have been into Deadpool for the last several years, but this is my first try writing a fic about them. 
> 
> Peter is in his last year of college in this fic, and can be whatever version of him that you prefer. I don't really picture any one of the actors in particular. I'm picking and choosing from various canons, just like a real marvel writer! 
> 
> there is some angst having to do with that and other past events, but for the most part, this is just a love story.

It’s a Wednesday when Wade begins surveying Spider-man.

 

A pretty gorgeous sum of money had been offered to him for taking him out, so here he was, munching on Fritos as he watched him patrol. The client had insisted that he was masquerading as a hero to get away with a darker agenda, and even implied that he was associated with a human trafficking organization called Araneae. Although Deadpool has his doubts, he also finds that Spider-man has tons of bad press that links him to the of several disasters over the years. His client claims that he is a nefarious glory seeker, not a genuine hero.

 

So Deadpool watches, following the bright red and blue blur from place to place. He loses him more than once because of those cool ass webs, but he always finds him again.

 

The first day, Spider-man saves a cat from a tree, stops two car-jackings, and helps a little old lady cross the street. The second day, he stops a mugging and helps carry groceries, before stopping at a taco truck that Wade happens to know is fucking excellent. Good taste doesn’t mean he’s a good person - Wade is a perfect example - so he watches from a rooftop with binoculars and continues tracking his movements.

 

The third day is quiet on petty crime, so Spider-man spends most of the night feeding and petting any stray dog or cat he can find to give him the time of day.

 

Which is pretty much when Wade knows he’s fucked.

 

* * *

 

 _[But the money],_ yellow box laments.

 

 _[[Yeah, but can you kill someone you watched help a lost kid by putting him on his shoulders so he could see his dad over the crowd?]]_ white box counters.

 

Wade grumbles into his bag of chili cheese fries.

 

The sixth evening, Wade has no heart in it at all. At this point he’s fairly sure that his client is a lying sack of shit that he’s going to find and beat the everloving bejesus out of. Wade is also fairly sure that he’s a huge fucking nerd for Spider-man now.

 

Who the actual fuck is that good? Who takes the time to tie a toddler’s shoes in between foiled purse snatchings? Who pauses to make sure the criminals he ties up in his webs aren’t too uncomfortable while they wait to be arrested? How can someone be brilliantly badass and yet somehow do no wrong? And who looks _that_ good in vibrant spandex?

 

He ends up getting distracted following his not-target-anymore when he passes a stand of tourist crap. He isn’t a tourist, so he usually wouldn’t stop, but there’s a tiny Spider-man plushy hanging from the corner of it that catches his eye. It looks like it’s meant to hang from a phone, or wallet.

 

[ _You have a phone.]_

 

[[ _This is 2019, everyone has a phone.]]_

 

It’s terribly cute and decidedly accurate, now that Wade knows how ridiculously soft the superhero is.

 

The clerk is staring at him with a terrified expression, Wade realizes after a moment of loitering, so he tosses some cash on the counter, grabs the plushy, and sprints away.

 

* * *

 

It’s not like he means to see Spider-man without his mask on. That definitely isn’t his intention, because from what he can tell, he’s very secretive about it. Probably for the same reason that someone had risked their femurs lying to Deadpool about him just to get him out of the way.

 

There was a reason that rich ass super teams have so much security surrounding them. By definition, they have the absolute _worst_ enemies. Somehow Spider-man gets by.

 

The Avengers are doing their thing, saving the world from something that isn’t any of Wade’s business, and usually he wouldn’t give it a second glance. Sure, sometimes he helps the X-men out, but the Avengers are kind of rude, to be honest. Especially Stark. Cool, but rude. That’s why he was so shocked that Spider-man hadn’t exhibited even the slightest shittiness at all over over a week of watching him.

 

He hears a crash and sees Iron Man zooming toward it overhead.

 

This time, Wade follows, running in the direction of the explosion before he can think it through. He’s at the scene before he knows it and as he catches his breath, he takes a moment to take stock of his decision.

 

_[You’re thinking, this is what Spider-man would do.]_

 

_[[Or that you’ll meet him there and he can be impressed by how heroic you are.]]_

 

_[You should leave this up to the heroes.]_

 

A giant fish - shark - thing is swimming through the sky, wrecking buildings in it’s path, and Deadpool takes a second to marvel at how stupid the world is.

 

People are screaming and running away as rubble collapses around them and starts blocking the pathway for cars. Sure enough, he sees a glimpse of a red and blue figure sweeping through the air, swinging between buildings, and he has half a mind to go follow him. This is all Spider-man’s fault, after all, and white box was right, he did kind of want to impress him with his casual hero attempt.

 

But then a woman trips in her heels as she tries to run away and Deadpool watches as part of a building beside her start to fall when a stray fin knocks into it. She doesn’t even see it coming.

 

Wade gets to her in time to scoop her up and out of the way, but is going too quickly to run. He ends up rolling with her in his arms, protecting her from the worst of the gravel and then letting her go so that she goes tumbling even further out of harm’s way.

 

The crashing sound is awfully close, so she was narrowly saved.

 

Thanks to him! Wade is about to sit up in triumph when searing pain shoots through his left arm. He looks over at it to find that a large chunk of the building had managed to fall on it. He’d only been helping for like, a minute, and he’s already lost a limb? This hero gig is totally dangerous.

 

_[Are we seriously taking the time to worry about Spidey right now?]_

 

_[[You do realize you’re one of the dangers he should be worried about,right?]]_

 

Not anymore he isn’t, but the point stands. He eyes the situation, wondering if it can be salvaged. No, his arm is totally crushed, he’ll have to abandon it, but what else is new? He sighs and pulls out a machete, then proceeds to hack his arm off so that he can get back to saving people, or whatever.

 

When it’s finally detached from his body, he looks up to find his savee still there. The woman is staring at him with wide eyes and trembling all over.

 

“What? It’s way worse if I try to just rip it off, my friend. The sound will haunt you for -”

 

She shrieks and stumbles to her feet, beginning to run away again, away from him and the giant aquatic looking monster in the sky.

 

“Rude,” He mutters, before heading off in the direction that he’d seen the little spider swinging off too.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes him several minutes to find Spider-man. There are just too many people in danger for the Avengers to take care of while, again, _fighting a giant flying fish wtf._ So Wade is left to pull people out of rubble with his one good arm and, in one case, climb up the fire escape of a building with questionable integrity to rescue a dog that someone had left behind.

 

A lot of people are too scared of him to accept help unless they’re desperate, he finds. By the time he finds Spider-man, he’s bloody all over, he only has one arm and he’s limping thanks to jumping out of the building with the yappy little pomeranian in his arms.

 

He doesn’t think he’s as freaky as a giant murder fish in the sky though, so it’s a little insulted, but ultimately he doesn’t blame them.

 

Wade hears the terrible sound of ripping metal and crash that shakes the ground he stands on, so he gets back to it, stumbling around the corner. He stops in front of a small puddle of fresh blood to take a breath.

 

Then he sees him, Spider-man, standing under what used to be an overpass.

 

But the road isn’t attached to the bridge anymore, it’s supported only by Spider-man, who is holding it for a dozens of homeless people that had been using the overpass for shelter. There are no cars on top, luckily, but it was clear that Spider-man had barely made it in time and had opted to _catch the whole damn thing because there were too many people to save_.

 

“Oh my god, you’re so strong,” Wade says in a squeaky rush, and is glad he’s too far away for the man to hear him.

 

Spider-man is facing away from him, and Wade is rooted to the spot, staring as the people scurry away. He starts creating something of a net with his webbing, and let’s it support the overpass long enough that he can slip out from beneath it. Without the hero’s support, it only stays suspended for another moment.

 

It crashes to the ground with a loud crunching sound and a ton of displaced dust.

 

Then Spider-man turns toward Wade and freezes at the sight of him. He goes all tense, completely still, the only bit of movement is the ruffle of his brown hair in the wind.

 

_Oh._

 

That’s when Wade looks down and realizes what he’d assumed was blood puddle is actually Spider-man’s mask, which is off, not on his face, meaning that his face is uncovered, bared, and completely exposed.

 

He looks back at Spider-man and tries not to gape at him. He looks just as soft as Wade could have imagined, with big soft brown eyes and soft wavy brown hair and smooth soft looking skin. He’s staring at Wade with panic written all over him, like the cat he’d seen him save from that tree.

 

And yet he’d also just seen him lift a whole section of an overpass. _Unf_.

 

Wade whimpers a little at the memory, it’s still so fresh. The dust, literally, hasn’t settled. And neither has his libido in response to the totally bitchin’ imagery.

 

_[Oh, shit, he’s cute. Like hella cute, like stupidly cute, like -]_

 

_[[This-Is-A-Problem Cute. Yeah, that’s not good. Whoa.]]_

 

“Yeah, for my heart,” Wade wheezes, even though he means ‘dick’ just as much as he means ‘heart’, if he’s being completely honest. Then he picks up the mask and throws it to over Spider-man, who catches it with a stunned expression.

 

Wade stares for another moment so he can commit his face to memory, waves goodbye with his one good arm, then runs the hell away before he can face the consequences of his actions.

 

 


	2. we don't feel like we've been told to

The days that follow the overpass incident are filled with anxiety.

 

Losing his mask hadn’t been that big of a problem when he’d been holding up the road. He’d been hunched over, in heavy shadow, his hair falling over his face. Also, the only people around to see him were people that were too busy running for their lives to take stock of what his face looked like, or worse, film him on their smartphones. The danger had been too immediate for that.

 

He’d considered himself lucky that the tendril of the creature, lined in sharp little grippy spikes, had hit him while he was in motion and that it had left him with just a few scratches. They were already healing by the time he’d slipped out from under the chunk of road.

 

He hadn’t been expecting to see Deadpool, of all people, there.

 

Peter rubs his hands over his face and waits for the news to come out. Considering that Deadpool is supposed to be a mercenary, he figures the guy is pretty good at tracking people down. He can hope that his face isn’t enough to track him down with, but considering tracking people down is part of a mercenary’s job, he doesn’t have a lot of hope.

 

Besides, it’s been feeling a lot like someone is watching him while he’s on patrol. Not enough to fully set off his spidey sense, but enough that he can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

 

* * *

 

 

His identity isn’t on the news. What is, however, is this:

 

“He saved me,” a young businesswoman tells the reporter. “He looked sort of like Spider-man, but not? I mean, I don’t know, he had too many weapons, and he - he _chopped off his arm!”_

 

“His arm?” The reporter gasps. “What do you mean?

 

“It got stuck under some of the rubble, and he just...chopped it off, like it was nothing!” She pressed her hand to her collarbone, looking shaken at the memory. “I was sort of freaked out, it was terrible, but he did still save my life...”

 

“Thank you for sharing, and we’re so glad you’re safe,” the reporter says, turning back to face the camera head on. “Is this some kind of new hero, or perhaps just a fluke? We can’t be sure, of course, but -”

 

The reporter continues to speculate, and much of it doesn’t assume the best of the savior in question. Not surprising, considering that Peter still gets bad press despite having a pretty stellar track record. It did happen near the scene, however, and it _does_ fit the description of Deadpool - he’d even been missing an arm! except for the saving people part.

 

Although, now that he considers it, Peter knows that isn’t entirely true.

 

He’d heard of Deadpool working with the X-men on occasion, but he was pretty sure that was a paid gig. The Avengers were trying not to resort to using mercenaries, the last time he’d checked, and besides, the alien fish had been a pretty spur the moment emergency. Peter had come on his own after hearing the news, and Deadpool had been there at the same time, it seemed.

 

Another two weeks pass and Peter’s name still isn’t in the news. Part of him is worried that Deadpool sold the intel directly to a source that might come after him at school, or after May to get to him. May and Stark are the only people that know Spider-man’s identity, and he has AI surveillance set up in May’s house to make sure that nothing bad happens to her, should this situation arise. He would know if there had been anything suspicious going on, and there’s nothing of the kind.

 

The more time passes, the more his worry transforms into curiosity.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Mr. Stark, what do you know about Deadpool?”

 

“Heya, Pete, how about you let me get my coffee in before you bring up that lunatic?” Tony responds, agitated and clearly not caffeinated.

 

“Sorry,” Peter says a little sheepishly, only to watch the man nurse his cup of coffee, waiting as patiently as he can for his answer.

 

Tony exhales heavily and sets down his mug.

 

“ _Fine_ , here’s the run through. He’s insane and highly dangerous. He’ll do anything if it pays well enough, so pretty much the opposite of what the Avengers want to be associated with.” Tony narrows his eyes at him. “Wait, why are you asking about him? Are you in danger? Did he - ”

 

“No, no, no,” Peter holds up his hands. “Not at all. Well, no more than usual. I haven’t met him or anything. I just...uh, saw a news report the other day that had me thinking.”

 

“Ok _aaay_ ,” Tony prompts impatiently. “Do we need to have another discussion about unnecessary dramatic tension, Parker?”

 

Peter grins, “Well, apparently he saved someone. Like, went out of his way.”

 

“Nah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Tony scoffs, finally getting a sip of his coffee in. He apparently likes it enough that he goes back in for a second before continuing. “Look, he’s trouble. It’s probably not him, but even if it was? It was a mistake, or he was paid to do it.”

 

“Right,” Peter says, though he can’t help but feel he disagrees.

 

Which is seriously stupid, because it what Tony is saying is based on all the available evidence. He knows he should tell him what happened at the overpass, but his gut stops him.

 

“Look, I don’t know his motivations. He’s unpredictable because he’s crazy. Don’t let a garbage person like that waste too much of that brain space,” Tony pats him on the shoulder and starts walking away. “By that, I mean, _get back to work_.”

 

* * *

 

 

A month passes by and he’s actually starting to let himself be relieved, even if the prickly sensation of being watched hasn’t gone away.

 

He figures he’s just paranoid, until he catches a glimpse of a dark figure in the rear-view mirror of a car he’d just stopped from being stolen. It shuffles around the corner and then into an alley, out of sight.

 

His heart beats hard in his ears. He sees the figure again a few blocks later, where he perches on a streetlight, angling himself so that the glass of a storefront reflects enough to be an effective mirror.

 

 _You’re way too trusting, Parker,_ a voice in his head, which sounds too much like Tony, scolds him. His mind immediately jumps to May, sure that if they have someone tailing him, that they may have someone at her house too, right now, while he’s nowhere near -

 

But then he corrects himself, because he isn’t Peter right now - whoever is following him is following Spider-man, not Peter Parker. So maybe the cynical Tony-voice in his head isn’t on it’s game. Also, his suit would tell him if there was any suspicious activity within a mile radius. There were precautions now, dozens of them, ever since -

 

Peter scowls beneath his mask and decides to set a trap.

 

* * *

 

 

His web stretches across the top of a dark, narrow alleyway.

 

After luring his stalker out of the way and making several quick turns so he would have time to construct his web out of sight, he now sat in the center of it, waiting. A second web lies on the alley flood, a prepared net made out of webbing that won’t degrade as quickly as the kind in his wrist shooters. He hasn’t actually gotten the chance to use the net much, as most people were easily subdued enough

 

Blood is still rushing in his ears as he catches onto stealthy footsteps drawing nearer. Sure enough, the figure turns into the mouth of the alley to follow him.

 

It does look like Deadpool. It’s too dark to make out the red of his outfit, but he can see his katanas, guns, and the white eyes of his mask.

 

“Where the heck are you _going_ , Spidey?”

 

The voice is deep and gruff, but not unkind. More winded and frustrated than anything.

 

“You’d think he was doing this on purpose! Yes, I _know_ , White, it would be within his rights, you think I don’t know? _Duh_ . Now will you let me trail him in peace without implying that I’m some sort of creep? I’m not a creep, I’m just - _WHOA._ ”

 

He triggers the net by stepping into it. The net makes a _thwpp_ sound as it closes around him.

 

Deadpool shrieks, high pitched and sort of pathetic.

 

Peter doesn’t have time to linger on it, though it does catch him off guard. He sends out a line of webbing from his wrist to catch the net, pulling it so that it’s suspended about six feet in the air, then securing it to  the secure web above. Then he drops down from it and onto the ground, slowing his descent on the web that holds the mercenary up. He lands pretty smoothly, considering it all happens in just a few seconds.

 

He pinpoints the place where Deadpool’s face is squished up against the netting and crosses his arms.

 

“Whoever you’re talking to kinda has a point,” Peter tells him.

 

“Oof. I am both wounded and _wound up,_ Spidey.” Deadpool says, scrunched upside down and angled oddly within the net. “Damn, ain’t you just something else, Itsy? Like, _ouch._ ”

 

Peter opens his mouth to demand answers out of the man, but before he can, his brain does a double take. He uncrosses his arm and steps forward.

 

“Wait, are you injured?”

 

A tendril of panic shoots through Peter at the thought.  He’d thought the scream was just out of surprise and, frankly, pure dramatics based on what he knew of the mercenary, but what if -

 

“It shouldn’t have hurt you, I designed it really carefully, but maybe something malfunctioned? Here, don’t move, I’ll get you -”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, baby boy,” Deadpool cuts him off, the eyes of his mask going wide. “Dontchu worry your pretty little head about that, alright? I’m fine and dandy. Like, a little embarrassed and cramped but other than that? Peachy keen. For realsies. Besides, it’s not like it would matter much if I weren’t, because - _yes_ , Yellow, I had it fuckin’ coming, I get it, alright? White, could you be quiet for two fuckin’ seconds? Anyway, yeah, Spidey, even if you did break something, I’d heal real quick. That’s sorta the whole deal. But you didn’t! I’ve been more fucked up in actual functioning hammocks, t-b-h.”

 

Peter is relieved to hear it, the stream of babble calming his nerves. His shoulders start to unwind, but his stomach still feels a little queasy.

 

 _If Deadpool can ramble like this, then he’s probably okay,_ Peter’s mind supplies. _Besides, why would he lie about something like that?_

 

“Okay, uh, that's good,” Peter begins, trying to find the irritation he’d had a few moments previous. Deadpool is literally blinking at him, or perhaps fluttering his eyelashes _(how?)_ in a way, his mask taking on a nearly girlish appearance all of the sudden. “Hey, don’t look at me like you’re _innocent_.”

 

“Little old me?” Deadpool asks in a saccharine falsetto, a far cry from the gravelly quality it had a few moments before.

 

Peter brandishes his index finger at the man, lowering his own voice to emphasize his meaning.

 

“Stop joking around! This isn’t funny,” Peter grabs the net and pulls Wade forward and down so he's at eye-level. “Why were you following me? Why were you there that day you saw me and why haven’t you told anyone about it and why -” Peter gives a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Why haven’t you even tried to get out of this thing? Or attack me? I can _see_ your weapons!”

 

“Why would I be trying to attack you?” Deadpool asks, his voice back to normal, if a bit shocked or - hurt, maybe. Peter almost feels guilty, before he remembers what Tony had told him.

 

_He’s insane and highly dangerous. He’ll do anything if it pays well enough._

 

“Isn’t that what you _do_ ?” Peter gestures widely. “You saw my face and now you’re stalking me - have _been_ stalking me, right? For _weeks_. What exactly am I supposed to think?”

 

“You think -? Ooooooh,” Deadpool draws out the word for much longer than necessary. “Riiiiiight. Right right right right right. That makes sense, okay, sure, no, I get it. Of course you’d - yeah, yeah, that’s what anyone would think. You think I was paid to find out your identity?”

 

“Weren’t you?” Peter hisses.

 

“Nope!” Wade disagrees, popping the ‘p’. “Funny story, I was actually hired to kill you.”

 

Peter lets go of the net and takes a step back.

 

“But! Sorry, _buuuuut!_ I should have lead with this, I know, shit, _shut up White it was your idea to say it like that, you theatrical ho,_ but what I meant to say is - I was hired to kill you, but I turned down the job. So don’t worry about that either, Spidey. It was such bullshit! I don’t make it a habit of killing heroes, after all, that’s just not good for business, y’know? Straight up good people are just off limits, I mostly kill scumbags, douchenozzles, fucknuggets, you understand. Man’s gotta have a code. Shut up, of course we’re not calling it Code Red, that’s so cliche, can you let me bond with my boy, here? Jesus Franklin Christ, you would not believe these asshats, Spidey. Here I am trying to chat with you, _finally,_ and they just never shut up -”

 

“ _Wait_ ,” Peter says sharply, and Deadpool stops talking quite suddenly. Which is a bit of a surprise, but Peter is having a hard time thinking with all conversations the mercenary was having with himself as background noise to linger on it. “So you...didn’t tell? _Anyone_?”

 

“About that adorable mug of yours? Of course not!” Deadpool assures him. “Didn’t look you up neither, since I figured that would ruin the mystery, and also my chance of being friends with you. I know when to keep my mouth shut! Well, my nickname would beg to differ, but that’s not all of who I am. I can keep a secret, that’s half of the biz, after all, and - besides, Spidey, don’t you get it? I’m kinda your biggest fan!”

 

_Friends?_

 

Peter regards Deadpool, frown under his mask as he tries to take it all in. He’s...a lot, the whole ordeal is, but he doesn’t seem like he means any harm. At least, not to Peter or his family, which was his main issue right now. He can handle the rest later.

 

“If you turned down the job,” Peter says slowly, still highly suspicious. But his spidey sense isn’t acting up at all, and even the prickly sensation is gone. Despite everything he knows about Deadpool, he can’t bring himself to actually be terrified of him. “Then why are you following me?"

 

“Uhhhhhhhhh,” Wade shifts in the net, which makes him slide into an even less comfortable position. His strangely expressive mask winces. “I will definitely answer that question, but it might take a bit, so - do you think, like, I’ve earned enough trust points to be let out of this _very_ cool yet increasingly uncomfortable contraption? Pretty please? I’ll throw in some Mexican food, if you’re on the fence. Do you like Mexican? It doesn’t have to be Mexican, but also, if you don’t have an allergy to chili powder then like, why _not_ Mexican? Are you hungry? You must be hungry. I’ve been out for as long as you have and I’m ready to eat my own foot, and I swore I'd never have to do that again. So you should definitely let me out and I can give you the whole spiel - wow, okay, I heard that, and it sounded dirty. I hope that doesn’t count against me?”

 

Peter hesitates for a moment, trying to detect any deceit, but not having any luck. He _is_ super hungry, and he’s too poor to turn down free food. It’s probably safe to have one meal with the guy.

 

“...Yeah, alright. Mexican food. I know a place that will still be open nearby,” Peter relents.

 

Choosing the place should help ensure it’s not a trap, though he isn’t sure how Deadpool could have anticipated being caught in his web, anyway. His instincts always tell him when something is wrong, even if his brain doesn’t see it. Now, though, his brain is paranoid, searching for something amiss due to preconceived biases, while his instincts are completely at ease. It doesn’t make sense, considering he knows for a fact the man is the top mercenary in the world, even if he’s not feeling murder-y in Peter’s direction.

 

And yet.

 

He steps forward until he’s right beneath Deadpool, triggering the release by ripping a specific junction of the webbing he’d pre-marked. Peter steps back again, allowing it to unravel.

 

Deadpool falls to the ground with a harsh _thud,_ groaning even as he raises thumbs up into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your comments and kudos!! i think this chapter is even better than the last one, and i hope you think so too. let me know what your favorite parts/lines are and how you feel about what happens~


	3. we never are quite the same

“ - and I’m like, is this guy seriously going to play me like this? Do you know how much money they were offering me? Like buy-an-island money, man. But I gotta make sure the target is someone that  _ should  _ be taken out of this world, and kid-savers and puppy-petters just ain’t it, you know? They tried to make you seem like a criminal, fabricated a bunch of fucking lies and then - well, I’m guessing you know that some of the papers don’t like you very much, right? What’s up with that? Callin’ you a menace, like there aren’t perfectly fuckin’ menacing dirtbags all around without them fabricatin’ -”

 

Wade is running his mouth while he chews. 

 

Sitting a few feet from him on the roof is Spider-man,  _ can you believe,  _ who hasn’t stopped staring at Wade since he began the tale. It’s making him kinda nervous, honestly. He’s eaten a few tacos while Wade goes on and on, but he hasn’t said much himself. Not that Wade has really given him time to, but still.

 

“So I guess I kept following you to give me - I don’t know, peace of mind? You have a healing factor and you are just, hng,  _ so  _ strong, but you can still die? Dude, White, I know I’m framing everything as a question, will you let me talk? Also, because I was bored and you’re interesting, in a Mother Teresa kinda way, but scratch that, she was kinda racist? Most people were back then, but I’m not giving her a pass, no siree bob! You’re waaaay cooler than her too,  _ obvs _ . Just that, you do good work and it would suck fuckin’  _ hard _ if something heavier than an overpass fell on you or -”

 

There are constant distractions that threaten to veer Wade’s train of thought off course. He’s talking way too much, he knows that ( _ you think he doesn’t know that? _ ) but it’s difficult to stop when he’s on a roll.

 

The distractions consist partly of White and Yellow shouting lewd things they want to do to Spider-man, telling Wade how he doesn’t deserve to be eating a meal with someone like him, and then circling back around to kissy noises. 

 

The other part, the even worse ( _ or better? Yeah, better, way better, oh, wait, no, that’s why it’s worse, fuck, WORSE)  _ part has to do with the the sliver of neck that Spider-man reveals when he tugs his mask up to eat, his lips when he chews, the pink of his tongue when a dribble of sauce almost escapes-

 

It makes Wade want to shoot himself in the head, it also just makes him  _ want. _

 

Not that there’s that much difference. Death, little death, blah blah, skullfuck - wait, what? That isn’t even one of his kinks, unless Lady Death was into it like that, not that he ever sticks around long enough to find out. Where was he again?

 

“I’m not a saint,” is the first thing that Spidey says to him when finally does speak, cutting off Wade’s awful spiral of thought. “I also don’t need a bodyguard.”

 

“C’mon, missed opportunity to say ‘ain’t a saint’. What are you, a grammar nerd, you  _ nerd _ ?” Wade teases, taco particles flying. He actually gets a little smile out of Spidey at that.

 

“I guess I am, a bit.”

 

“You really are too cute to shoot,” Wade tells him cheerfully. “That one’s not even in the summary, I made it up on the fly, just for you!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Ignore me, it’s a whole  _ thang. _ ”

 

Wade waves a hand dismissively and then wipes his mouth off on his sleeve. 

 

“Do you know who put the hit out on me?”

 

“Yep. High ranking Araneae member. You’ve been saving too many trafficking victims for their liking.” Wade watches Spidey’s shoulders get tense.

 

“That’s... flattering, I guess.”

 

“ _ Right? _ ” Wade gushes. “Most people mind their own business, go on about their shitty lives, but you?”

 

“Kinda sounds like you’re calling me nosy.”

 

“That’s  _ kinda  _ what being on patrol is, baby boy. Sticking your nose into the business of people whose business it is to make lives miserable.” Wade sighs dreamily. “S _ o cool. _ ”

 

“Um.” Spidey turns away slightly. “Do I need to be on the lookout for an assassination attempt then? You turned it down, but someone else will have taken them up on it.”

 

“Nah,” Wade answers. “Not if they know what’s good for ‘em, and I was pretty clear. I un-alived the shit out of every member I could find as soon as I tracked them down.”

 

Spidey goes quiet and still.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, that’s not the extent of the organization, since they’re run by a bunch of rich fucks who want to buy kids, and there are unfortunately a  _ shit ton of them _ .” Wade doesn’t mean to growl that out, not really. He flips a switch in his head and his voice gets lighter. “They’ll need to regroup and since they went to Rich Fuck University, they’ll do the numbers and realize you saving their targets is a  _ looot  _ less costly than losing a couple dozen motherfuckin’ investors when I get to them.”

 

Spidey is quiet for a few more seconds. Yellow and White are rioting so hard that Wade’s brain hurts way more than usual.

 

“You didn’t mention that part when you explained stalking me.”

 

“Thought it was implied,” Wade shrugs. Spidey tilts his head at him as if to say ‘ _ how!?’  _ but doesn’t push any further than that.

 

_ [You kill people. He hates you. He should. Better sooner than later.] _

 

_ [[Jump off the building!]] _

 

“You haven’t explained why you were at the scene that day,” Spidey changes the subject admirably, but not to something Wade feels particularly inclined to talk about.

 

“Pure chance, my sticky friend,” Wade shrugs, stuffing the rest of the taco into his mouth. 

 

His cheeks bulge when he chomps down.

 

“Sticky - okay, that one is kinda gross,” Spidey tells him, and Wade supposes they can’t  _ all  _ be winners. 

 

“Accurate though,” Wade says with his mouth full. He swallows before he goes on. “You stick to walls, Webs! Is it ever a problem when you’re jackin’ the beanstalk?”

 

“ _ What? _ ”

 

“Whackin’ the Kraken?”

 

“You’re changing the subject!”

 

“THIS IS MY DRESSING ROOM!” Wade declares, louder than expected. Some nearby birds flee the scene. He steals one of Spidey’s tacos and stuffs it into his mouth all at once.

 

Spidey’s lips becomes a tight little line and he exhales through his nose.

 

“I saw a woman on the news who said you saved her.”

 

Wade chews.

 

“That you pushed her out of the way.” Spidey continues, prompting. “That’s how you’d lost your arm when I saw you, right?”

 

“Nah, someone like me could never be a hero. I just happened to be in the area. She happened to be in my way.” Wade tells him, licking sauce off of his gloved fingers. 

 

It’s obvious he’s lying, but doesn’t want to get Spider-man’s hopes up. Saving a few people hardly makes up for all the damage he’s done. He doesn’t have anything to brag about.

 

White and Yellow both agree loudly and verbosely, so it takes him a moment to realize he’s being spoken to again. He blinks hard to clear away the shadows that have begun pushing at his vision.

 

“I don’t need a bodyguard, and I don’t approve of you stalking me,” Spider-man asserts, pulling his mask back down over his chin. “So cut that out.”

 

Wade ducks his head, but before the boxes can start up on a new train of abuse, Spidey goes on.

 

“But you could help me out sometimes. Come be nosy with me.”

 

Wade’s head springs back up, his jaw slack with surprise.

 

_ [Wha-huh?] _

 

_ [[He’s a witch! Push him off the building! Kkkkkkhhh!]] _

 

He tries to remember where his tongue is. 

 

“...That’s kind of what I was doing already, wasn’t it, Spidey?”

 

Spidey sighs. “This time don’t do it from two blocks back.”

 

Wade blinks. “From where then?”

 

“Like, uh, here?” Spidey indicates with an open palm, to where Wade is sitting, just a few feet shy of  _ beside  _ him. Wade stares some more. “Together? If you want.”

 

Oh, Wade  _ wants _ . That’s sort of the whole issue. 

 

Even though he knows it’s a bad idea, even though he knows it will end badly, even though he knows that he’s being selfish wasting Spider-man’s time, even though White and Yellow have begun to tell him that Spidey doesn't even exist (or if he does, he's definitely not here right now, offering this), even though  _ a gajillion different reasons - _

 

Wade nods anyway, and tries not to get used to whatever the warm, floaty feeling in his chest is.

 

_ [Indigestion.] _

 

_ [[We ate SO many tacos.]] _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so pleased with the response i'm getting! thank you all so much. this chapter is on the shorter side but wade can be hard to capture the voice of and i think he's really coming together, so i liked this meeting as a stand-alone.
> 
> please keep the feedback coming, it really gets my gears going~


	4. we shine on each other in the dark

Peter presses the heels of his palms into the sockets of his eyes and then drags his hands down his face.

 

It’s been four nights of patrolling with Deadpool as his partner, out of a week and a half, and it’s gone surprisingly well. They eat together, share companionable silences, and have worked together to harmlessly foil seven different criminals. Peter listens more than he talks, still cautious, still gathering data, but with each night that passes, he can his feel his guard slipping.

 

Peter isn’t sure that it’s a bad thing, either.

 

So many people would say he’s too trusting. He can hear their voices chastising him when he turns his back on the mercenary, or when they exchange numbers, or when he laughs a little too freely at one of Deadpool’s jokes, but each day he opens up a little more, and he’s not sure how he can justify closing back up. Deadpool just hasn’t given him a reason to.

 

He knows logically that he should stay far away from Deadpool. If he’s going by facts alone, he knows that he’s an unstable murderer who hears voices that tell him to do awful things. That should be enough of a warning to make him steer clear, one would think.

 

But he also knows that he has a moral code, and that he’s saved people, even though he still won’t openly admit to it. Whenever Peter tries to point out that’s what they’ve been doing together, Wade cracks a joke and changes the subject.

 

The more he thinks about it, the more Peter remembers that practically every one of the Avengers had caused death and destruction on some level, with varying degrees of culpability. Whether they were trained from childhood or thoughtlessly funded a corrupt system or were horrifically brainwashed or turned into a huge green monster bent on smashing everything in sight, they were not without their own dangers. The only difference between them and Deadpool was that they had already turned their act around. They were using the parts of themselves that had been crafted to do damage for good instead.

 

And maybe that they hadn’t gone insane, which made them exceedingly unpredictable and therefore quite easy to vilify and write off.

 

But it wasn’t Deadpool’s fault that he’d broken a little more than they had. It wasn’t his fault that he had been hurt so much - and god, the _scars_ , even just what he could see while they ate - that part of him had snapped. It wasn’t his fault that he’d seen so little good in the world he compared Peter to a _saint_ for doing basic human decency stuff.

 

In fact, considering what Peter knows, he’s pretty sure the whole planet is lucky Deadpool isn’t a worse person. He could go on a massacre and kill indiscriminately, he could have killed _Peter_ for tons of money and probably plenty of other heroes _,_ but instead he goes out of his way not to hurt innocent people.

 

_I un-alived the shit out of every member I could find as soon as I tracked them down._

 

Peter had felt his throat close up. Even thinking about it now, in the relative quiet of his apartment, was enough to make his stomach turn. Not just because of the murder, but because they’d been killed for Peter, in a way. They were terrible men, and the world would not be worse off with them gone, but it still wasn’t the right way to go about vigilante justice.

 

But Wade needed to be taught the right way to do things, and the best way to do that was lead by example and not let the man push him away.

 

From what Peter could parse from his reluctance to admit that his good deeds were good at all, there was a whole mess of self-loathing under the casual homicide and crude jokes. If he is trying to turn around, as his actions recently seem to suggest, then he needs encouragement. He needs a guide, someone that believes he’s good enough to do it, and if Tony’s assessment is anything to go by, that is probably difficult for the mercenary to to find.

 

From the way Wade talks to himself, _about_ himself...

 

Well, it seems like the everyone in the world is against Deadpool, even, _especially_ Deadpool, and Peter can’t help but want to be the one person on his side.

 

* * *

 

" - and then there'd basically be no reason to reattach it! What? Is that too icky for you? Sorry, sorry, I guess that was kinda dark, but you like it sometimes! Don't look at me like that, Spidey, I can tell you're rolling your eyes from beneath your mask at me! Also, on a related note, do you ever think about how it's basically like me and Falcon are married?"

 

"Wh- _at?_ " Peter bursts out laughing. "That wasn't related at all! And why would I think of it? It's your fake marriage."

 

"So you agree!" Wade squeals, delighted.

 

"I hate to break it to you, but 'Wilson' is a very common last name." Peter snorts. "Too bad though. Might get at least one wing in the divorce."

 

"Aw hells yeah, now you're thinking, baby boy!"

 

* * *

 

 

A blackout in Washington Heights makes it the ideal place to patrol. The poorer the neighborhood is, the longer it takes for the lights to turn back on, and the longer it takes for police to intervene when it comes to the inevitable spike in crime. It will be good to have Wade’s help, so Peter texts him a location to meet.

 

Wade responds with a picture of a piglet and a puppy cuddling, which Peter takes to mean ‘see you there’. He also cracks several jokes about starring in a musical number, but Peter has no idea what means by it.

 

It doesn’t take long for them to find someone up to no good. Two figures in are trying to break into two seperate places within a block of each other. One of them is busting through the glass door of a small market and the other is climbing a fire escape. Peter indicates that he’ll take the high one while Wade takes the low one, and they split up, but they’re still within shouting distance, especially with Peter’s super hearing. He keeps tabs even as he climbs the wall, making sure Wade doesn’t go overboard.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing with that crowbar, mister? It doesn’t even match your shoes! Don’t you know anything about accessorizing?”

 

“Hey, get back -”

 

“Don’t you know you should only steal from large chains and not sweet little mom and pop grocery stores? I get you’re broke, but this place is getting gentrified, you know! You want a fuckin’ Walmart Pharmacy here or this cute little food store? You think those places won’t have a back-up generator and a fuckton of cameras? You gotta think long term, silly billy!”

 

Peter lets out a little snicker as he confronts his own target. The man swings at him aggressively in a wide arc, snarling at Spider-man to mind his own business. Even when he knocks the crowbar out of his hands and off of the fire escape, the man pulls out a knife on him.

 

“Wow, you _really_ want to get into this apartment! You know, I can give you a number for a realtor if you’re really that interested.” Peter snarks as he dodges. “No? That’s too bad!”

 

It takes him less than a minute to web up the would-be home invader. He deposits him him at the mouth of the alley and then goes to check on Deadpool.

 

“Yeah, you better run!”

 

“He got away?” Peter asks, brows raising in his suit.

 

“Just a kid,” Wade shrugs, flipping the crowbar idly. “Trying to steal food. Said I’d let him go if he gave me this and skedaddled on home.”

 

Peter hesitates before patting Wade on the back.

 

“Good call,” he offers, and figures that the man would prefer he didn’t linger on the interaction. He tells Deadpool about his catch instead, and Peter laughs when Deadpool makes a similar joke about the guy going through a realtor, ‘ _or at least craiglist’s for rent section, c’mon!’._

 

It isn’t long before they hear a fearful scream nearby, signalling the end of their break.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Peter,” Aunt May greets, gathering him in a hug, her chin on his shoulder. “Mr. Stark has been hogging you far too much lately.”

 

“It’s my fault,” Peter tells her sheepishly. “I’m sorry. There have been some ...developments I’ve been preoccupied with, but that’s no excuse.”

 

“It sure isn’t,” She agrees, smiling and beckoning him into the dining room. "The black-out didn't affect you, did it?"

 

"No, not me," Peter tells her as he helps set the table. "There are still people without power though."

 

"The hospital overflow has been awful. Everyone has been pulling doubles."

 

"Don't work yourself too hard," Peter

 

"Mhm, says you."

 

" _Yeah_ , says me," Peter challenges her playfully. She swats him with the serving spoon on the shoulder and he clutches it with an exaggerated gasp. "Aunt _May._ "

 

"It's nothing I can't handle, mister intern-photographer-student-superhero." she assures him, divvying up their portions. "Now, there's something on your mind. Tell me all about it."

 

He tells her all about Wade over pasta and veggies. While Peter still hardly knew the full scope of the story, there were scraps that he could put together to give his aunt some background. Wade had been pretty open with his name from the get go, and hadn’t been pushy when Peter had been reluctant to share. Even though he’d seen his face once and had promised not to dig further, it still felt too new to divulge too much. He couldn’t help that he felt safe around the mercenary, but he still couldn’t justify giving too much away.

 

Even if it made him feel a little guilty.

 

“He sounds like a man with a challenging past,” Aunt May murmurs, looking at Peter with soft eyes. “I can’t even imagine what he's gone through.”

 

She puts her hand to her chest.

 

“I think I can help him, Aunt May,”

 

“I know you’ll be careful, Peter. You're still my priority, and while I don't think Tony is being completely fair in his assessment of the man, I won’t lie and say it doesn’t worry me knowing you're alone with him.” She frowns, thoughtful. “Is he still killing when he’s not with you?”

 

“I’m not sure. I’m kind of trying not to scare him off before I can…” Peter trails off, looking at his plate. “I don’t know. Do you think I’m crazy?”

 

“You can’t save everyone, Peter,” Aunt May tells him, grasping his hand. “But it seems like he’s trying, which is more than most can say. You’ve got quite the underdog on your hands, but I...I trust your judgement.”

 

“Thanks, Aunt May,” Peter smiles at her and squeezes her hand gently.

 

“Of course,” She says, leaning back in her chair, eyes bright. “I’m so proud of you. It’s ...nice to see you like this, Peter. Invested in someone again.”

 

Peter’s brow furrows.

 

“Do you enjoy spending time with him?” Aunt May asks before he can linger too much on her comment.

 

“Sure,” Peter admits, “He’s funny, and he talks so much that he takes my mind off of -” _-the places his mind wanders when he’s alone and the world is too quiet, a dark clocktower strewn with broken glass, a bloodstained strip of pavement, a small room with blue walls and a faded, orange couch -_ “- everything, you know. It's usually so quiet that I get too lost in my own thoughts, but not when he's there. It’s...nice, actually.”

 

“Then he sounds like worthwhile companionship,” she tells him gently. “Speaking of your classes, the summer is almost over and you’ve barely told me anything. You better spill, young man.”

 

* * *

 

 

"There's a black out and a thunderstorm? Man, this is like one of those spooky movies! No, Yellow, I will _not_ cling to him like a scared maiden! That's a terrible excuse, and I'd know it wasn't genuine. And now he'd know, since we said it out loud. Hey, Spidey, do you like spooky movies?"

 

"I'm more of a comedy kind of guy," Peter tells him honestly, "There are a couple dramas that I don't mind though. A lot of the horror out there is just sad."

 

"Get enough of the creepy stuff in real life, huh? I get it. Me too. The scary ones aren't even scary to me actually, I just make fun of them. Some of them are just clearly written by dudes that want to see brutalized women, and I'm not into that bullshit. Who gave those guys jobs anyway? Oh! You said comedies. Do you like comedians? Because there's this great one with a bit about Iron Man that you have _got_ to watch some -"

 

Peter's spidey sense buzzes through him and he grows alert, straightening up. Wade stops talking, waits for his signal, and then off they go.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the third blackout night, they are both exhausted. Peter is sweatier than usual and has to activate the ventilation mode on his suit to be comfortable, while Wade is panting and bent over, supporting himself on his knees. It’s lucky the summer is waning, or else they’d probably be even more overheated from all the running around they’ve done tonight. There's no rain like there was the previous night to cool them down. Peter feels bad for him, stuck in all that leather, and not even willing to take his mask off.

 

He grabs a some waters and hotdogs from a convenience store down the street while Wade catches his breath. It takes an extra minute because he poses for a selfie with the cashier at the man's request, but when he gets back, he’s relieved to see that Deadpool is right where he left him.

 

“You want a ride up to the roof?” Peter finds himself asking, which makes Deadpool’s face jerk upward and the whites of his mask eyes go wide.

 

“....Uh. Yeah?”

 

“C’mon,” Peter turns his back on him to indicate, “Hop on and hold tight. It’ll just take a second.”

 

“Guh,” Wade blurts incoherently, but carefully does as he’s told a second later.

 

It feels only a little ridiculous to have someone twice his size riding piggyback, and he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious when Wade’s arms wrap around his chest. His heartbeat picks up, but he’s pretty sure the mercenary doesn’t have super-hearing, so he tries not to fret about it.

 

Soon they’re on the roof in the breeze, rehydrating, and stuffing their faces.

 

“We can actually see the stars tonight,” Peter murmurs later, leaning back to support himself on his hands so he can take in the constellations.

 

“Light pollution is a bitch,” Deadpool agrees, mustard smeared on his scarred chin.

 

“Yeah,” Peter aspirates, an aborted little laugh. He swings his legs over the side of the building,, kicking idly. “I grew up in Queens, so I think I’ve only seen them like this a handful of times. My parents had a place upstate when I was a kid, but I barely remember them at all.”

 

A silence stretches for several seconds, and it isn’t uncomfortable exactly, but he thinks it’s the longest Deadpool has ever gone without saying anything. He doesn't usually talk as much as he did on the first night, when it seemed like he was spitting out as much as possible for fear that Spider-man might just swing away at any moment, but he does still go into derailed monologues here and there. Peter is fairly sure he distracts himself from his chaotic mind with speech, some times things that don't even make sense, so hearing him quiet for this long is kind of eerie.

 

Did he say too much? Peter hadn’t talked about himself before really, so maybe this was too much for Wade to handle. Maybe he felt pressured to share something of his own, which wasn’t at all what Peter had intended. Their time together had been mostly criminal wrangling, stupid jokes, and pop culture references, not insights into one another’s past. He’s made things awkward.

 

Peter is about to say that it might be time to wrap up for the night when Deadpool decides to speak again.

 

“I’ve been to a lot of dark places,” Wade says, voice low and even a bit soothing, despite the rough quality of his voice. “No streetlights, no indoor plumbing, nothing for miles around sometimes. Plenty of stars there. Even some glimpses of the galaxy, and up north, the aurora borealis.”

 

“Sounds lovely,” Peter muses. “I’ve only seen videos.”

 

Wade shrugs and offers a big, wolfish smile. “I like it here better.”  

 

Then he shoves the entire half of a hotdog in his mouth, ruining the gentle mood and leaving Peter to wonder if he means New York City, or _right here,_ with him. Then he feels arrogant for thinking like that, and figures it doesn’t really matter which, anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm updating faster than i expected. it's all thanks to you guys, i'm really loving your comments. very encouraged. i wanted to bring may around for an outside opinion but a lot of the stuff coming up is going to be pure relationship building/memory making. 
> 
> looking forward to your responses, lovelies~


	5. we hold our loneliness in hand

Wade fucks up every time he patrols with Spider-man, just by being there.

 

He knows that Spidey won’t ever admit it, and he does keep texting him to let Wade know where he’ll be, but that’s because he’s just _the nicest._

 

This was the same man who had caught him following him, and been more concerned about whether or not Wade had been injured in his contraption than immediately getting answers, after all. The same one that checked to make sure his webbing wasn’t too tight when he ensnared a thief, who sacrificed a good night’s sleep so that he could save a few people each night, who texted Wade about patrolling a few times a week no matter how obnoxious Wade had been the time prior.

 

Wade shouldn’t be anywhere around him. Sure, he’s ‘helping people’, but it’s nothing that Spider-man wouldn’t be doing anyway, nothing he couldn’t do on his own. He’s wasting the hero’s time, he’s taking advantage of kindness, and depriving people of a _real_ good guy. Wade is fully prepared for this fairytale to end and to be plunged back into his regularly scheduled misery programming soon enough.

 

In a softer part of his mind, Wade sees himself as a long dead and hollow tree. Just because some small and sweet creature has chosen to make a nest within him, it doesn’t make him a shelter.

 

He just wants to be selfish a little while longer.

 

* * *

 

 

Spidey deposits Wade on the ground. He’s pretty sure he’s never going to get over how it feels to wrap his arms around him like that. Spider-man carries Wade’s hulking mass like he’s nothing at all, and it makes him feel like a Disney princess. Only, he isn’t, which is probably the shitty Hans-esque twist.

 

“See you next time, Wade,” he says, a smile in his voice.

 

Hopefulness dulls the jagged edge of that promise. It stings, to know he’s taking something he doesn’t deserve, but Spider-man keeps showing up, and Wade keeps wanting.

 

“Next time, Webs!” He shouts after him as he watches him swing away into the distance.

 

* * *

 

_[We need to touch him or we’ll die soon.]_

 

_[[Maybe he’ll carry us again today. That’s been happening more often.]]_

 

_[A butt touch would be way better. You know, for the soul.]_

 

_[[If he’d throw us over his shoulder, we’d have such a good view!]]_

 

_[Oh, damn, you right.]_

 

_[[And it would a show of strength even more impressive than the piggyback rides!]]_

 

_[Oh, DAMN, you RIGHT -]]_

 

Wade is agitated by the voices in his head. They may actually be more frustrating when they’re getting along. _Shut up,_ he snaps at them, and then searches for something to say to his lovely hero companion.

 

“Have I ever told you how incredible your ass is?” He winds up blurting out.

 

The boxes cheer.

 

“Uh,” Spidey huffs out a breath. “Yeah, every other time we see each other.”

 

“What can I say? It’s seriously impressive, finely crafted, a real specimen. _That booty, though_. It must be all that jumping around you do, really works out the glutes. Do you do squats, too? Or do you not really have to do anything at all to keep this up?”

 

He gestures at all of Spidey, coming off a little manic.

 

“Er,” Spidey rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I was bitten by a radioactive spider and just sort of woke up like this. I’ve definitely gained more muscle tone by patrolling almost every night, but…”

 

“Wow,” Wade stares, tries not to stare, and then goes right on back to staring. “You’re so lucky. You got even hotter when you mutated? No fair! I just got tortured a lot, like a _lot a lot,_ like the _mostest,_ and had my handsome face and beautiful fucked to hell.”

 

It’s Spidey’s turn to stare. Wade can imagine the way those brown eyes are probably softening with compassion for him, which is no good.

 

“But hey! I can’t die now, so that’s a plus!” Wade lies vibrantly. “Hey, a radioactive spider is a pretty fun origin story. Did you know you wanted to be a hero right from the start? What am I saying? Sweet and sour Jesus, DP, of course he did. It’s in his bones! I bet you woke up with all those lovely muscles and immediately got to designing your supersuit. Then off you went to save the day! _Dun duh duh dah!_ ”

 

Spidey looks away from him, which makes Wade feel as though he’s done something wrong. So he only digs himself deeper, with his stupid, stupid words.

 

“Though I guess your suit has gone through a few different renditions, huh? That’s one that Stark designed for you, you mentioned. Did he design those fancy webs for you too? Seems like the sort of thing he’d make in a lab at the top of that cloudfucker of his.”

 

“Actually, I designed my web shooters,” Spidey offers after a moment. “Before I met him, though I have improved on them in the labs since I've worked there."

 

“Oh my god, you’re super smart _too?_ ” Wade falls back, flailing and groaning. “In a science way? I’m way too impressed by this. You’re really showing me up. How is a lady supposed to keep up with that?”

 

Wade finally manages to get a laugh out of him.

 

“You aren’t?” Spidey snickers.

 

Wade clutches his heart, gurgling for affect.

 

“It’s a slow night,” Spidey says thoughtfully, after a pause. He’s poised at the edge of the roof in a crouch, too far away from him for Wade’s liking.

 

“You wanna go home?”

 

_[[Yeah, with us!]]_

 

_[No, idiot, he’s trying to get away from us!]_

 

“That’s cool,” Wade continues, standing up and averting his eyes.  “Cool, cool, cool. No need to stick around if you’re bored or whatever, I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time with -”

 

“Oh,” Spidey says, looking back at him. “No, I didn’t mean -”

 

“It’s all good, Bitsy! I’m sure you’re tired, and if there’s no reason for us to be here, then -”

 

“Wade,” Spidey cuts him off, facing him now. “I wasn’t suggesting that we go home. At least, not yet. I don’t know about you, but I need to burn off some energy. I figured we could play a game.”

 

_[[What the fuck.]]_

 

_[Waaaaaaaaaaaaah?]_

 

“Y e s?” Wade answers in a strangely mechanical fashion, blinking several times, his voice thick as mud. He considers clearing out his ears. With a bullet.

 

_Fuck._

 

Spidey is standing up and walking over toward Wade, who’s struck by the way the lights from below catch the curve of his legs with every step. His boxes go a little more nuts when Spidey reaches out for him, his motions smooth and slow, until -

 

-he boops Wade on the nose.

 

“Tag. You’re it.”

 

And then he runs.

 

* * *

 

 

Spidey almost always wins, even though they make a rule that he can’t use his webs to escape. He’s way too fast, but Wade is unpredictable, so it never gets too mismatched to be fun. He spins and flips and side steps just out of Wade’s grasp, and it’s elegant enough to be a like dancing.

 

Only once so far has Wade managed to catch him, and even then, he almost doesn’t. He goes to tackle him to the ground, leaping from the shadows. He almost misses, but manages to catch Spidey’s leg.

 

Wade curls his fingers around his ankle and then he _drags,_ pulling smaller form beneath him in one swift motion. Spidey’s other leg comes up, foot planting on Wade’s thigh to catch himself.

 

“ _Gotcha_ ,” He growls triumphantly.

 

He watches Spidey pant beneath him for a long moment, wishing he could see his face. He can think back to the way he looked by the overpass, but that’s just one moment, one expression. He’s seen his mouth when he smiles, but not the way it reaches his eye. He’s seen him frown and purse his lips, but not the way his brow must wrinkle along with it. He can’t picture him how he’d look if Wade lifted the captured ankle over his shoulder and crowded him against the rooftop.

 

Which is...probably for the best.

 

Yeah, Spidey is right to keep his mask on. The boxes are getting increasingly lewd and aggressive with their suggestions. It’s for the best that the hero keeps a modicum of distances between them, until he decides it’s time to widen the gap for good.

 

Wade pushes himself away and rolls over onto his back beside the other man, his lungs burning.

 

When he’s with Spider-man, he feels like he’ll live forever, but not in the true and terrible way that haunts him every other second of the day. Instead, it’s an alternate universe, one with a better forever, a less exhausting forever, one that is exciting and full of tender moments and actually worth living.

 

Which is how he knows it can’t possibly last.

 

And yet -

 

“ _Finally_ ,” Spidey snarks, springing to his feet with ease. “Ready to go again?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, my awesome readers. hope you enjoyed wade's pov, i'm pretty proud of some of the lines in this chapter actually. we got some angst and some cute stuff and a game of tag that's a little sexy if you squint.
> 
> would love to know your thoughts, predictions, favorite parts, etc~


	6. we each decide who we are

His second to last semester begins, and Peter starts off strong. Stark gives him a small promotion at the same time, so he doesn’t have to be so dependent on the Daily Bugle. He still loves photography, and goes in to sell them photos once a month, but he no longer feels dependant on them to eat. He even gains the confidence to suggest that he could go to another paper, so Jameson becomes slightly less of an ass.

Peter is fairly sure he owes the boost of self-esteem on Wade, who has boasted a ‘fake it until you make it, or else, fake it until you get better at faking it’ method of getting through life. He’s never been able to threaten anyone before, without a mask on, and to be honest, it feels pretty good.

* * *

 

“It was so in this alley, Itsy, I see the bloodstain over there!” Wade tells him smugly, way too pleased with himself. “You doubted me. He doubted me. Smarty-pants thought he had one over on me, but I never forget a puddle of righteous blood spilt, baby boy. In fact, I’m feeling confident enough to say it, so why not? I’m going to say I have never been wrong, ever, in my whole life.”

Peter laughs, “You were wrong just the other day.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t just pick out something I said days ago and use it as something to be validate your argument now! I thought we were working through our problems, Sweetums! Do we need to go back to Couples Counselling? I know you’re cheating on me with him, Karen!” Wade gets a little shrill, then dials it back. “Oh, wow, that was good. I wasn’t even expecting that twist. I could be a writer for the Real Housewives or something, don’t you think?”

Peter waits patiently for the end of the melodrama, snorting.

“You definitely have the imagination for it,” Peter says, in a way that is both a compliment and not. Wade rocks on his heels and giggles, making an overly modest expression through his mask. “Did you have more to the plot you wanted to share, or can I tell you what you were wrong about?”

“If you must.”

“When you said that I probably jumped out of bed the day I got my powers and went right into being a superhero? That’s not how it happened. I was...I was being kind of selfish, actually. The first thing I did was,” He frowns at the memory, “Uh, I entered a cage match to make some money.”

“Omigee, really?” Wade leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees and props his chin up in his palms. “Baby boy, I never would have guessed! Did you win?”

“Yeah,” Peter confirms, feeling like maybe he shouldn’t tell the story after all. They’d been having a good time. But Wade has shared a lot with him, things that are even tougher than this, so it only seems right.

“Webs?” He prompts, a little more seriously.

He shares the truth of the night Ben died, looking down at the street. He tells him how he doesn’t know much about his parents, that they died when he was young, and that his aunt and uncle stepped up to raise him. How hard they both worked, how broke they were, the manager of the cage fight shorted Peter on his winnings, how he let the thief go vindictively.

“...so it was only after he died in my arms, and said what he said, did I actually put my powers to good use.” Peter’s speaks through a knot in his throat, but manages not to cry.

“Oh,” Wade murmurs, suddenly quiet.

“You don’t need to say anything. It was a while ago. I didn’t mean to make it all emotional or anything, but I keep thinking about what you said.” Peter says, clasping his hands in his lap. “I just wanted you to know that. I didn’t just pop out of bed with powers and run straight outside to fight crime. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, because I - uh -” His lip quirks, a bit forced. “I ain’t a saint.”

He hopes to break the tension with the inside joke, but Wade isn’t having it for some reason. When he looks up, ready to see the man laugh, he’s quiet, calm, and closer than he’d been a moment before.

Peter can feel the intensity of his gaze through the mask. He shies away from it.

“My only point was that, people aren’t born heroes, so what you’re doing - what you’ve been doing, it’s not less than. It matters. To them, and to me, and I’m proud of -”

“Baby boy,” Wade murmurs, putting a warm hand on Peter’s back. “Are you seriously trying to comfort me right now?”

“Uh.” Peter kicks his feet. “No? I was only -”

“Baby boy,” Wade cuts him off again.

“I really didn’t mean to make it that serious,” he insists. “It’s… it was along time ago. I know it wasn’t my fault, now.”

“Good,” Wade says seriously. “It isn’t.”

The knot in Peter’s throat tightens. He clears his throat.

“All I wanted to say was that I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself too,” Peter tells him earnestly. Then he turns playful, knocking his shoulder against Wade’s. “Oh, and that you were wrong.”

Wade scoffs and knocks his shoulder back.

 

* * *

 

Halloween is a blast. The best Peter can ever remember having, in fact. Ever since he’d become Spider-man, he’d spent each one patrolling alone. Before that, standard trick-or-treating, mostly.

Sure, it’s a weekday so Peter has to study after work, which is after his classes, and sure, he wasn’t invited to any parties, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have gone anyway. He does get a GIF from Mary Jane, featuring a cat in a devil costume, and sends a snake with a top hat to her in return.

What makes this Halloween the best he can remember is that Wade meets up with him, and they pass candy to a crowds of hyper children all over the city who are so excited they’re freaking out.

Peter feels like a rock star.

They also play a game that Wade creates, called Spot-The-Spidey, which is exactly what it sounds like. There’s a total of three hundred sixty-seven Spider-men they’d managed to see from above at the end of it, both adults and children. To their combined delight, they had also found twenty-nine Deadpools walking around. Peter had asked about that at the beginning, but Wade had been convinced it wouldn’t happen, until Peter pointed out the first few.

Holidays are always accompanied by extra crime, so they stop a couple of muggings and thefts too. By the end of the night, they’re munching on the stash of candy they kept for themselves and giggling while watching Hocus Pocus on Peter’s phone into the early morning.

If Wade catches a glimpse of his contact list, with a picture of Aunt May in the most recently contacted, then he doesn’t bother to say anything about it.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know why I called you in here today?”

Wow, was there a better phrase to make Peter’s heart leap into action? It was bad enough that he’d been told by the lead assistant that Tony Stark wanted to see him personally in his lab, like he was a troublemaker being sent to the principal’s office, but now Tony was

Is he being fired?

No, of course not, he hasn’t done anything wrong. Also, he’s Spider-man.

“Uh, I, not really?” He stammers, rooted to the spot. All he can think about is that he’s not sure how he’ll get his testosterone if he loses his health insurance, and will Tony help Aunt May with security still if he’s gone? He’s pretty sure he will, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be fired either.

“Yeah, that dramatic tension is a bitch, huh?” Tony snarks, turning to face him.

“What,” Peter breathes.

“It was a clever reference to our previous conversation,” Tony says, almost flippantly, if his jaw weren’t so obviously tense. “You know the one? Where you asked me for advice?”

Uh oh.

“The advice that you, apparently, completely disregarded?” Tony waves a hand, and a screen pops up, a video begins playing.

Peter knows what it is immediately, but he watches the clip anyway.

It’s footage of Deadpool and Spider-man each holding a huge garbage bag full of chocolates and tossing them out to the hordes of children (and various drunk adults) below. Wade had even brought a special mix of music to blast as they did so, which included songs like I Want Candy by Aaron Carter and Sugar by Maroon 5. They truly do look like Halloween Santas, like Wade had joked. He’d also said ‘ho ho ho’ way too many times.

“So, what,” Tony goes on. He waves his hand and the video slides away, out of sight. “You befriended a known murderer for shits and giggles?”

“What? No!” Peter answers, only to realize - “I mean, well, we do giggle quite a bit, but it’s not how it looks.”

Tony glowers. “Explain it to me then, Because this? It doesn’t look good, kid.”

“He’s trying to get _better_ ,” Peter says emphatically. “He hasn’t killed anyone in months, ever since we started hanging out.”

“He kills for a living, Parker, you really don’t think he’d lie to you about that?”

“No, I don’t,” Peter shoots back, maybe a bit too harshly. “He never killed innocent people. I don’t agree with his methods, but he thought he was doing the right thing. The life he lead, the one that was given to him, most people wouldn’t leave it with any kind of morality, and he tries.”

“He breaks the law.”

“ _So do I!_ ” Peter shouts, growing increasingly agitated. Vigilantism, though tolerated in his case, isn’t strictly legal. There’s a reason Jameson and his readers still loathe him.

“You know it isn’t the same,” Tony grouses. Peter knows that he’s hit home with that one, but Tony still doesn’t look ready to bend.

“Look it up then, Mr. Stark. See if he’s killed anyone, and then look at the type of people he killed before. He began joining me on patrol in June, and he’s been doing so much better. He saved my life, and he’s saved a lot of other people too.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s changed,” Tony informs him cooly.

“It does mean that he’s trying to.” Peter rakes his fingers through his hair. “He isn’t a bad person.”

“He does terrible things and he’s going to get you caught up in them,” Tony argues, crossing his arms. “He’s made years and years worth of bad choices.”

“Life hasn’t given him many good options!” Peter snaps back at him.

“I know you want to believe that -”

“And you want to believe exactly what you’re mind is already set to.” Peter exhales sharply and regards Tony with disappointment and frustration. “He could help the Avengers. He could right his wrongs, and you’d benefit from it. The whole world would. But you can’t see past your own biases to consider that maybe he’s just a broken person who didn’t know any better, but is trying to learn.”

Tony purses his lips.

There are a dozen things Peter wants to say in that moment, all of them true, but some of them quite nastily so. _I guess I thought you’d understand that. You’re lucky you were born rich and are considered attractive and charming, so the world was more inclined to forgive you. Your crazy is just more socially acceptable and you have a team of people to handle the fallout. Your weapons killed more people than Wade ever could, and you have no way of knowing if the victims deserved it. You’re just overcompensating because you know he had it worse and is still better than you._

They’re too cruel to do anything but drive a wedge, and he doesn’t want that. It will only put Tony on the defensive, and make him resent Wade more.

Peter is sure he’ll regret even thinking it. He’s already kind of starting to.

“I get that it’s hard for you to believe in him,” Peter shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders sagging as the righteous anger drains out of him. “But I do, and I’m sorry, but nothing you can say will make me stop.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited this since the first time i put it up was in a rush, but yay! thank you for the responses. i liked writing about Halloween, you guys have such great insights and i'm so happy with everything you're noticing. i'm putting a lot into it so it's really great to be appreciated
> 
> the next chapter is mostly done because for some reason my brain wanted to write it before this one?? i guess i was on a wade pov roll. much love, i'm so excited to show you what's in store! <3


	7. we feel, we feel the way we must

Spider-man teams up with the Avengers in the morning a couple weeks later. 

 

Wade sleeps in and catches it on the news hours after it happens, a bomb threat in Tony’s Tower of Pizza (Wade likes to imagine the Avengers eat Italian food constantly, because they probably need the carbs and also because it’s funny). The threat ends up being a hoax, a distraction for a series of detonations on the other side of Manhattan. 

 

Luckily, they were ready for that, as real superheroes tend to be, and both Captain America and Spider-man help people escape and minimize the damage until the others show up. Scarlet witch contains the rest of the explosions. The casualties are minimal, the injuries few, but the villain evades capture. It could have been worse, but then, it always can.

 

He knows that it’s ridiculous to be jealous, but that does stop the emotion from forming. It claws at his eyes, while the boxes jeer and taunt him for it.

 

Wade sulks the rest of the day, and embeds every knife he has into the wall of his apartment.

 

* * *

 

“I wish you were there,” Spidey tells him later, over the phone. “I was called in so suddenly that I left my phone with my civilian clothes. None of the others would contact you!”

 

The irritation on Wade’s behalf is nice to hear, but it doesn’t pull him out of his emotional slump either. He sulks on his couch, not even able to enjoy Spidey’s voice as much as usual.

 

[ _ Still a bit though. It’s a cute ass voice. _ ]

 

[[ _ Let’s imagine it saying all sorts of things!]] _

 

[ _ Wait, mean things, to make us want to die slowly - or sexy things, to make us want to die slowly?] _

 

[ _ Both, both is good.] _

 

“Their loss!” Wade forces out cheerfully. “It’s not like I know anything about splodo villains. It’s not like I’ve been exploded myself like, fifty-seven times - _ oh wait. _ ”

 

“Splodo villains?” Spidey laughs. “I know one of them who would hate being called that. He always did take himself too seriously though.”

 

Wade gets another unfathomable pang of jealousy.

 

“See you tomorrow night?” Spidey asks, after a long and awkward pause.

 

“Yeah, see you then.” Wade confirms, then hangs up and then lets his phone slip out of his hand and onto the floor. It lands with a thud that he barely hears over the roaring cacophony in his head.

 

* * *

It’s not like Wade means to give Spidey the silent treatment. It’s just that the voices in his head are being especially loud and he’s pretty sure that whatever comes out of his mouth is going to be absolute trash. It’s not like there’s even anything to say. There’s just a well in his chest full of dark insecurities and graphic depictions of the self-immolation he wants to commit.

 

Spidey looks concerned, but every time he asks if something is wrong, Wade just grunts with a negative inclination to it and shrugs. 

 

_ Not really. Nothing that really matters. Nothing that will change anything. _

 

_ [[We could tell him that we’re jealous,]] _ white box offers, unhelpfully.

 

_ [Yeah, or we could jump off this motherfucking bridge and revel in the sweet release of death. That sounds just as fun and it’s slightly less likely to make him regret ever talking to us.] _

 

The quiet is strained between them for the first time, and although he can practically feel the worry coming off of the hero, that only makes Wade feel more shitty about himself. He’s going down a dark tunnel of thought, but knowing that doesn’t actually help him steer away from it.

 

“Uh, so,” Spidey starts awkwardly. “How about them Yank-”

 

Hearing the sugar-coated distress in his voice is what does it.

 

Wade snaps. “Why are you still  _ doing  _ this?”

 

Spidey startles. “What do you mean?”

 

“You know what I mean,” Wade goes on, voice more jagged than usual. “You’re really too nice to just come out and say it, huh?”

 

_ [Of course he is, you dumb shit.] _

 

_ [[He’s fucking Spider-man, and him being too nice is the reason you didn’t kill him! Did he really think he was going to kick you out of his life? You’re a charity case!]] _

 

_ [Charity cases never become meaningful relationships, despite the messages of those white guilt movies!] _

 

“Wade, stop, what are you talking about?”

 

“This!” Wade opens his arms to indicate how they’re sitting cross legged beside one another. “I’m a murderer! You shouldn’t be having a picnics with me!”

 

“ _ You _ brought the blanket!” Spidey says, rearing back defensively. 

 

“Yeah, so your precious butt wouldn’t get cold!” Wade snaps back, but it’s coming out too earnest. He’s getting derailed. “But that isn’t the point. Why are you eating with me? Spending time with me? Patrolling with me? You have better things to do! And definitely better things to look at.”

 

“Are you serious?” Spidey flinches back a little. 

 

“Serious as the soon-to-be-fishless ocean!” Wade is up and on his feet, pacing, hands twitching for a weapon. “It doesn’t make any sense. You are literal good incarnate and I am a walking pile of rancid on-fire garbage! It would be easier to accept that you’re a - a  _ spy _ for the Avengers, trying to lure me into a false sense of security so you can lock me up once and for all - ”

 

The boxes howl in affirmation.

 

“Whoa,  _ hey,  _ I am not - I am not  _ luring _ you into anything!” Spider-man hops to his feet, “You really think I would do that to you?”

 

“It would make more sense than believing you just,  _ what? _ ” Wade spits the word, turning back toward the hero with just as much force. “Enjoy my  _ company? _ ”

 

Spider-man is motionless, hushed for several pounding heartbeats.

 

“You really don’t think that I could be doing all that because it’s fun to spend time with you?” Spider-man all but whispers. “You really ...don’t believe you’re my friend.”

 

Wade’s shoulders tense and his fists clench.

 

_ [Shit, we hurt his feelings! Abort! Abort!] _

 

_ [[Isn’t that kind of what we wanted? To give him an excuse to get out of this arrangement?]] _

 

_ [Yeah, but not if he feels bad about it! He’s supposed to be pissed, not sad!] _

 

_ [[Does he know the definition of a friend? Maybe he thinks it means an ugly, pity-sidekick who won’t leave you alone?]] _

 

“See? This is what I do! I inevitably freak out and yell irrationally and sometimes worse, and you should just go before that something worse happens!” Wade’s voice roughens. “Just  _ go _ .”

 

Spidey takes a defiant step forward.

 

“Didn’t you hear me? Fuckin’  _ leave,  _ Webs, or else -”

 

“Or else, what? Things could be okay, and you don’t know how to handle that?”

 

Wade kind of wants to double over from the blow of it. He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him somehow, his mind entirely free of comebacks.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Spidey says, a bit more firmly now. “I’ll give you some space if you need it, but this isn’t the end of the discussion.”

 

“Why don’t you just leave?” Wade hisses, casting a hand out toward the sky sharply. He wants to punch something, or shoot something, or stab something - preferably himself.  “I’m giving you the chance to  _ get out of this. _ Why aren’t you taking it?”

 

“Because I’m your  _ friend _ ,” Spidey repeats, leaning closer now. “Did you really not know that?”

 

Wade is having a hard time mustering the fuel for his self-sabotaging burst of anger, suddenly.

 

“...You’re just saying that,” Wade mutters.

 

Spidey sighs and regards Wade quietly for a few more seconds.

 

“I started this because I wanted to help you. It seemed like you...wanted to do good, but you didn’t know how. I only know how because of the people that care about me who taught me -”

 

“So you just wanted me to stop killing people?” Wade cuts off, accusingly. “You wanna  _ fix  _ me.”

 

“No, I want you to be better! To get better, to _feel_ better.” Spidey demands, “Haven’t you been having a good time with me, _while not killing people?_ ”

 

“Well,  _ yeah, _ ” Wade admits, crossing his arms over his chest, hackles still raised. 

 

He’d come into this hoping to tick Spider-man off, or maybe even scare him away. Spider-man wasn’t supposed to de-escalate the situation, wasn’t supposed to actually care about keeping Wade around, not if he wasn’t even going to be  _ easy.  _ He’d imagined Spidey saying ‘Wait, I go out of my way to spend time with you and you’re giving me the third degree? You know what? Not even worth it. Good luck.’ or something similar. It would have had a simpler solution.

 

Namely, swan diving off the bridge.

 

“...I also did it because, I guess,” He shifts, like he’s uncomfortable, like he’s a bit shy about it, and Wade nearly melts, or evaporates, or - some kind of change of state, to be certain. “I was lonely, and ...you seemed lonely too.”

 

“Wait, what, _ you -? _ ” Wade starts, but before he can confirm, Spidey is pulling his mask off.

 

His hair is matted in some places and sticking up in others. The dim streetlights and moonlight washes him out, so the entire palette has changed from the last time. His eyes look darker than they did that day, but they are somehow just as warm. 

 

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t obvious that I enjoy spending time with you. I know I can be...reserved, about myself. Not a lot of people know both sides of me, but, uh, I trust you.” He grins sheepishly, and his whole face smiles with him. “My name is Peter Parker.”

 

Wade’s heart falls out of his chest. The first time it had ever left him, it had been ripped out by the worst man he’d ever met. Now, it was leaping out willingly, and for the best one.

 

The implications of being given Spider-man’s name hit him first, before the quality of the letters and the sounds and the way they might form on his tongue. Spider-man is giving him his name, and those have power, even if it’s not in the mystical way that storybooks suggest. It’s a key to everything that Wade absolutely cannot have and could not ever even start to earn back.

 

_ [Peter! Pete! Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater! Petey-pie!] _

 

_ [[Peter Parker picked a peck of pickled peppers -]] _

 

_ Dear god, shut up and let me enjoy this!  _ Wade snarls at them viciously, but of course, that never really works. If he tries to quiet them too much, it’s like they multiply, and soon he’s battling half a dozen voices that each want something different and equally horrifying. The only one they ever really shut up for is Spidey, and even that isn’t consistent.

 

“Peter,” Wade repeats, out loud this time, because it’s  _ his  _ turn. “...You can’t trust me.”

 

“Sure I can,” Peter tells him confidently, easy as breathing. “I trust you to do what you think is right. And I think that’s a lot closer to my version of right than you’ll admit to yourself.”

 

Wade’s chest hurts, and not in the way it does when there are bullets stuck in it. Isn’t Peter grossed out by the disembodied organ lying between them?

 

Oh, wait, that was just a metaphor. Duh.

 

“I know you think I pity you. I actually listen to the conversations you have with yourself, you know?” Peter runs his fingers through his hair. It’s distracting, and Wade is jealous of his Spidey gloves now, of all things. The whole suit, if he’s being honest. “It’s true that when I think of what you went through, and what you still go through because of it...I definitely get sad. It’s fucked up.”

 

Wade snorts, then sniffles a bit.

 

“But I’ve...had a hard time too. For a while now, and you’ve,” Peter glances away. “You’ve made me better. I think we make each other better. Don’t you?”

 

“Buh,” is all that comes out when Wade tries to talk.

 

“So, let’s hang out. Without our suits.” Before Wade can fully register the innuendo enough to make a joke, Peter’s ears go so pink they almost seem to glow. “I didn’t mean - I  _ meant _ , in normal clothes, in my apartment. Or yours, whichever.”

 

Wade crumbles, hunching over himself and burying his face in his hands.

 

“Now I feel like such a moron for taking my shit out on you!” Wade moans in despair, but is honestly already feeling so much better that it’s  _ ridiculous.  _ Guilty, sure, but even that takes a back seat to the feeling he gets when he thinks about Peter wanting to actually  _ hang out with him.  _ In his  _ off  _ time. “That wasn’t cool. How are you so perfect?”

 

“I’m not perfect. I was super frustrated with you, actually,” Peter confesses, scuffing the heels of his feet against rooftop. “But you aren’t a  _ walking pile of garbage,  _ on-fire or not, and you need to know that _.  _ Besides, my aunt says that when someone is in a bad mood, that’s just an opportunity to exercise your compassion.” 

 

“I guess you come by your adorability honestly then,” Wade tells him, partly because it’s true, and partly because he wants to see Peter get all flustered again. 

 

He isn’t disappointed. With that, or really, anything at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie wow wow, i'm so happy about the responses i'm getting!! seriously thank you all so much, it really inspires me to keep going (and knocks me deeper down the spideypool pit). so glad the conversation with tony was received well! i can't wait to see what you think about this chapter! 
> 
> i'm pretty proud of how this argument turned out. wade's mental illness can make him unpredictable and goofy, but it also has it's dark days. i wanted to show that, and peter's response to it, and how they can recover. <3 
> 
> until next time~


	8. we are made in our own image

Although they have plans to hang out a few evenings later at Peter’s apartment, the same day the same villain who had planted bombs decides to attack again.

 

It’s only a week until Thanksgiving, and the bomb threat comes from a shopping mall, which is packed to the brim with grocery patrons and prompt holiday shoppers. They know a little bit about what to expect from the perpetrator this time, but considering the chaotic nature of his previous attack, there is only so much they can do.

 

Peter texts Wade his location and then swings into action.

 

* * *

 

This time is different. Apparently the increased security measures made it too difficult for the villain to plant bombs anywhere significant, so he’s taken to the streets.

 

“The suspect is on a motorcycle, tossing explosives behind him as he weaves through traffic,” Hawkeye tells them through the comm.

 

“Grenades?” Steve asks.

 

“They’re smaller, and they seem to be timed, not impact induced,” Hawkeye explains. “He’s throwing a bundle over his shoulder. They seem to break apart into - maybe ten? Different smaller explosives. Headed north.”

 

“Tracking him,” Natasha says. “Stark?”

 

“On it. I’ll get ahead.”

 

“Also, this fucker can _throw,_ ” Hawkeye informs them. “Pretty sure I saw one of them go about 500 feet. People can’t run fast enough.

 

“Christ.” Tony breathes. “That’s not a toss, that’s some Babe Ruth bullshit.”

 

“Gives me more time to hit them out of the air though.” A second later, “There’s too many of them. I need back up.”

 

From Peter’s vantage point, he can hear the rev of an engine and several panicked screams. Masses of people begin tripping over themselves to get away from, though Peter can’t see it from here, what must be a ticking explosive.

 

“I see you. I’m headed your way,” he tells Hawkeye, already leaping.

 

“Me too,” Steve says, “Buck, can you catch up to our guy?”

 

“Yes,” is the short, gruff reply.

 

* * *

 

While Bucky focuses on pursuing their target, Tony works on creating a barricade to cut him off. Steve is directing civilians to safety, shielding them from blasts and the falling debris that they create, while Natasha and Hawkeye shoot the little bombs out of the air before they can fall too close. Bruce is patching up anyone injured while Sam helps remove them from the situation if they’re stable, to where several ambulances and trained first responders await.

 

It’s Peter’s job to use his webs to fling any bombs that do hit the ground. He can hear them ticking, and luckily they speed up in a rather predictable manner. Rather than shooting them like Nat and Clint, causing them to explode immediately before they fall too low, he slings the ones that slip through back up into the air, timing it so that they’re far from the ground when they go off.

 

Peter’s heart is racing, but he is well equipped for the task at hand. His spidey sense makes it easy for him to spot the devices and his hearing gives him an advantage on the timing. He tries not to hold out hope that there won’t be any casualties this time, instead he puts all of his effort into hyperfocusing on the work at hand.

 

There is some chatter through the comm system, mostly status updates and requests for locations. It seems as though Bucky is approaching the dead end that Tony has arranged for when something that Peter can’t ignore comes up.

 

“Whoa, is that -?” Clint mutters. “The fuck?”

 

“You gonna leave us hanging?” Sam asks breathlessly. He’s grunting with exertion, in the process of carrying an unconscious and injured person to safety.

 

“Man, you’ll never guess who just showed up and caught one these fuckers with his bare hands!”

 

Peter guesses, with a secret smile, but keeps it to himself.

 

* * *

 

They don’t see much of each other in all the action. From what Peter can tell through moments in the earpiece, Deadpool is both taking the Natasha route and shooting some of the small grenades and showing off a bit by catching them. He throws them again so they explode in the air, and has made  comments about it being like a game of hot potato.

 

Clint is reluctantly amused. Tony snaps at him to stop giving them a play by play. Steve agrees, but does admit that they needed the help. Peter, despite the dire circumstances, has a hard time wiping the grin off his face.

 

Of course, no one has died today, in part thanks to Wade, so that helps.

 

* * *

 

They manage to corner the man in an empty lot. Tony calls for backup and shares the locations, so everyone but Bruce and Sam, who are still tending to the injured, make their way over.

 

The surrounding area has been successfully vacated, in case things go south. The first thing Peter notices when he arrives is that  motorcycle is crunched and over on it’s side. The second is that the man responsible for all of this is wearing a mask, one that makes his stomach turn over.

 

Pointed ears, sickly rubber green-gray skin, an exaggeratedly long curved nose and harsh lines around an awful smile. It’s familiar, as if a reference to someone that should be long forgotten.

 

He’s holding one of the bomb bundles in his hands threateningly, backing up slowly.

 

“It’s over,” Steve tells him firmly. “Come with us now. We don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Speak for yourself, Cap, ” Tony mutters, metal hands of his suit flexing. “I’d be open to it.”

 

A few beats of quiet pass between them. Then, to everyone’s shock, the bundle falls from his hands and he lifts them instead, in surrender. The Avengers and Peter all share a furtive glance. Steve raises his eyebrows and moves to take a step forward, still cautious.

 

“That’s the right choice -”

 

“ _There_ you guys are!” comes Wade’s familiar, upbeat voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you! You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had -”

 

Peter turns to look and sees him climbing over a fallen pillar nearby. He’s more happy to see him than he has any right to be, even if the greeting is dampened by the fact that Wade has yet again managed to lose both arms. Only at the elbows this time, but that hardly makes it better.

 

“Shut up,” Tony hisses. “As you can see, we’re in the middle of something.”

 

“Sorry! Blood loss makes me loopy!” Wade says, wiggling as if to show off the stumps of his arms. He winks and smiles at Peter, who offers him a little wave. “Had some timing issues, but you wouldn’t believe the fun I had! Just like old times, playing catch in the yard with the old -”

 

“ _Wade,_ ” Peter chastises, but he’s unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

 

“Oh, man, is Splodo surrendering?” Wade gasps in awe. “ That’s crazy! All that fuss and he’s just gonna mosey on over to prison?”

 

Although Wade is saying it in his usual nonchalant, playful way, he’s expressing the suspicions that the rest of them have too. Steve would practically always go through the ‘surrender now for leniency’ deal, but very few people actually go along with it. More than Peter has ever managed to get with it, since it is Captain America, and a surprising amount of criminals are still huge fans.

 

Still, that doesn’t seem to be the case here. The Avengers maintain their at-the-ready stance.

 

“Take off your mask and move slowly toward us.”

 

The man complies, reaching up to pull down his hood and slip his eerily nostalgic mask off of his head. A tuft of dark hair is exposed first, then a face that Peter is sure he’s seen before. He hasn’t seen that hateful expression etched onto it before though, so it takes a moment to place him.

 

Peter sputters. It’s Phil Ulrich, a reporter at the Daily Bugle. Peter doesn’t know him very well, but they have exchanged pleasantries and complained about Jameson together from time to time.

 

His stomach twists, abruptly unsettled, and what Phil says next doesn’t help.

 

“My name isn’t _Splodo_ ,” Phil declares, a nasty curl to his lip. “You’ll refer to me by the name that I’ve earned. _Goblin King._ ”

 

Then, he throws back his head and laughs.

 

* * *

 

The laugh is more like a shriek. It rips through the air so brutally and at such a high frequency that Peter has no choice but to collapse. He doesn’t know how the others fare against it.

 

He crumples to his knees so quickly he might have a mind to be embarrassed, if he were not in such excruciating pain. His brain feels like it’s vibrating, or perhaps peeling in two, breaking apart at the crevasses. His hands are on his ears and he’s curled into a ball, pressing himself as low to the ground as possible as though he might be able to take refuge beneath it.

 

Suddenly, Peter is back in the clocktower, back to being in horrific pain and entirely helpless while a friend is suffering. Peter’s mind isn’t working well enough to differentiate between the two experiences, especially considering the objective similarities. A goblin, explosives, the head splitting pain of a sound that pierces through his bones -

 

It stops in mid-cackle just seconds later.

 

Though it’s a relief, the danger has not yet past. Although he knows this, he can’t tell what direction the danger is coming from, and isn’t sure he could move out of the way if he did.

 

“Spider-man, look out -” someone shouts in the next instant (at least, he thinks it’s a shout by the inflection - it sounds so far away that it very well may not be).

 

He gasps for air and manages to open his eyes, desperate not to become a liability. His brain still feels like it’s ricocheting off of his skull, his ears are ringing, his eyes throbbing.

 

It’s hard to process what happens in the seconds that follow. Peter is still recovering, everything looks wrong, like a picture that’s been oversaturated. He still can’t stand up, his legs are too wobbly, and his spidey sense is completely out of whack.

 

So much so that he doesn’t see the little silver golf-ball sized explosive headed his way.

 

What he does see is this:

 

Wade, missing parts of both arms this time, sprinting toward him with a wild expression carved into his mask. It’s equal parts rage and determination. Maybe fear, too, Peter thinks as he gets closer.

 

Anyone else might be terrified of that sight, of a mercenary like Deadpool running at them full speed with a murderous look on his face. Peter is only confused and a little bit relieved.

 

Heavy footfalls against cement and someone’s concerned utterance from a distance are the only sounds Peter grasps, aside from the ominous ticking, growing quicker and closer with every millisecond that creeps by.

 

Then, like a dog catching a frisbee in it’s maw, Wade leaps, and the flash of silver falls into his open mouth. Peter’s ears have even recovered enough that he can even hear the swallow.

 

Wade hits the ground rolling, past Peter and further, further, until he’s in the clearing between the rest of the heroes and where Phil has been subdued.

 

“ _No -_ ” Peter manages to rasp at the last moment, but it’s too late.

 

He watches Wade curl over on himself right before it detonates within him.

 

* * *

 

The rest is a mess, quite literally.

 

Peter rushes to Wade’s side as soon as his body is able to listen to him, and is held back by Steve before he ends up in the blood. He manages to pull his mask up to his nose just before he vomits, and Steve pats him on the back gently as he heaves.

 

As soon as he manages to stop shaking and assures Tony he’s not going to get blood all over his suit, Steve lets him approach the heap of flesh that remains.

 

Somewhere in the background, the police show up to arrest Phil, but Peter barely registers it.

 

“He’ll heal,” Clint offers, patting him on the shoulder. “We can safely mark this as ‘no casualties’.”

 

“...Are you sure?” Peter responds, his voice low and scratchy. He’s never seen Wade this badly hurt before, has never seen him _die_ , and especially not for _him._

 

“Oh yeah,” Tony tells him nonchalantly. “There’s no getting rid of the bastard. I’ve looked into it.”

 

Although nothing in the tone is comforting, Peter can tell it’s his brand of reassurance. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just stands near him while he whispers to himself, trying to talk himself out of a panic attack. He’s not sure how fast this is supposed to work. He has no way of knowing the mechanics of such an intense regeneration, and it’s difficult not to spiral into uncertainty.

 

“He...he can’t die. It’s okay. It’s _going_ to be okay, because _he can’t die_ , so,” _stop crying!_ Peter wills himself. At least he’s managed to keep from sobbing audibly, though he has a feeling Bucky can tell even with his mask on.

 

Probably Natasha too, he considers when she joins them. She tosses Peter a duffle bag and rubber gloves silently, the purpose for which is immediately apparent.

 

The parts Peter missed during the sonic scream are put together in a calm debriefing, delivered by Natasha as Peter scoops up what is left of Wade into that bag.

 

The two least affected by the sonic scream are Clint, who removed his hearing aid, and Tony, within the confines of his suit. Clint uses the last few arrows to stop the bombs, but he runs out before he can get all of them. Tony had gone after Phil - or _Goblin King,_ who had kicked the bundle at his feet in the general direction of the heroes. No one had been unscathed, but Peter was well aware of how sensitive he was to sound, so it was no surprise that he had been incapacitated.

 

The others had been avoiding their own grenades while suffering from the scream, and so Wade had been the only one to notice the stray one still coming Peter’s way. Steve had been the one to shout toward the end, and Bucky had apparently been running his direction to intercept as well, but they were all too far away to be as successful Wade.

 

When the bag is zipped up, slides the strap over his shoulder and stands. His legs feel as strong as ever now, even if his stomach is still feeling weak.

 

Steve approaches, eyes warm and maybe a little confused.

 

“Thank him for me.”

 

“I think he’d like to hear it from you more,” Peter says, then sets off for home.

 

* * *

 

In his apartment, Peter lays a tarp on the couch before carefully lying parts of Wade out. He’s not even sure if where he puts the pieces matters that much, considering how little there is of him to work with, but Peter does his best given the absurd circumstances.

 

He only pukes a couple more times.

 

Then he showers, gets dressed, then runs to the corner store for snacks and incense, to help with the smell. It’s better than it was before, but only by a little, and he definitely doesn’t want the neighbors to complain or the landlord to investigate.

 

Once he gets home he collapses into bed, which in his studio apartment, means he’s just a few feet from his ‘living room’. He is physically and emotionally drained, but he makes himself light the incense before he goes to bed. The scent of chamomile soothes his mind and distracts his olfactory senses from the reality of what’s happening little more than an arm’s length away.

 

“Alright, Wade,” Peter yawns in the direction lump on his sofa. “Take your time, but if someone walks in here and sees this, you better start talking.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a full day before Wade’s head fills in, starting to look more full moon than crescent moon. Around the same time his chest is becoming less concave and the vertebrae of his spine are no longer visible.  However gross it all is, it’s also fairly reassuring. He _really_ can’t die.

 

_Especially not at the hands of Green Goblin wanna-be, in a bid to help Peter, just like -_

 

Peter tries not to look too hard at what’s happening. He talks to Wade while he straightens up the apartment and studies and makes box macaroni and cheese, letting _Golden Girls_ play in the background, since he knows that’s Wade’s favorite show.

 

Wade’s mask was ruined in the explosion, so when his face begins to reform, Peter feels a little bad about looking. He hasn’t been given permission yet, and he knows it’s a big deal to Wade, but he can’t bring himself to cover him up. At least not more than the sheet draped over his missing midsection.

 

A rasping, grunt of a noise comes from Wade as consciousness comes back, and Peter brushes a hand against the rough and gnarled skin of his cheek. A pitiful whine comes next, vivid blue eyes shifting, averting, like his face is something to be ashamed of rather than evidence of his strength.

 

“You’re okay,” Peter murmurs. “You saved me. It’s all okay. Go back to sleep, you’re not done healing yet. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

There’s a flicker of doubt, but Wade seems to believe him, or else he’s too tired to do anything but listen. His eyelids droop and he slides back into sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Wade wakes up for real, it is a much more light-hearted reunion. Peter is making coffee in hopes the smell will be enough to nudge Wade out of his sleep.

 

“ _Yeeeeeeeeeeesh_ ,” Wade groans from his place on the couch. “Your apartment is smaller than mine, Webs! Oooh, and you have weird dark patches on your ceiling! I think we have the same mold!”

 

He bursts into laughter. “Wade, stop, you _died._ ”

 

“Only a lil bit,” He shrugs. “Man, I’m hungry as hell.”

 

Peter’s pretty sure he’s going to pull a muscle laughing.

 

“You - you don’t have a _stomach._ ”

 

“That explains it!” Wade looks down at his gaping abdomen, then back at Peter, who is still thoroughly cracking up. “My stomach isn’t just empty, it’s nonexistent! I need some chimichangas, _stat._ Hey, baby boy, you sound like you’re gonna to bust a gut. Omigod, _twinsies!_ ”

 

“I was so worried, you - ha - you asshole!” Peter curls over and clutches stomach as it spasms. “Can you stop - _haha -_ making jokes about your missing parts?”

 

“Over my dead body,” Wade smirks, “So, as you can see, that’s a resounding _nope_.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so writing this many avengers is hard, please cut me some slack. overall i'm really happy with how this chapter happened, and the execution of the grenade scene. i really like the image of wade catching a grenade in his teeth like a dog and pulling a captain america but like, for real. so i made it happen, okay? okay, you're welcome 
> 
> no but seriously i'm so pleased you guys are having as good a time reading this fic as i am writing it. much love!!


	9. we share the difficult and the dear

The aftermath of this particular death is more difficult on Peter than it is on Wade. As many times as Wade as died, it’s pretty much nothing but an inconvenience. 

 

But when Wade is almost done healing, Peter wakes up sweating and panting, not sure if Wade is actually dead or not. Peter insisted he stay until he was fully up and running, and Wade had made several over-the-top high school girl sleepover jokes before accepting. In the middle of the night though, Wade wakes up to a half asleep and terrified Peter reaching for him, and it takes all of Wade’s willpower not to haul him out of his bed and onto the couch with him.

 

[ _ Can’t wonder if we’re alive if he’s sleeping on our heartbeat! _ ]

 

[[ _ Yeah, our heartbeat, that’s what we’re calling it, huh? _ ]]

 

Instead, Wade sits up and captures Peter’s scrambling hand, clasping it firmly. He tells him what Peter told him when he woke up while he was still in terrible pain, his face only half formed.

 

_ “It’s okay. You saved me. I’m okay.” _

 

Peter shudders as he catches his breath, his voice thick with tears and sleep.

 

“Sorry. It’s just...the Goblin King is a copycat, or a successor, I guess.” Peter tells him, still not looking at Wade as he does so. “The villain he was taking after, he was-”

 

The choked sound Peter makes rips a hole in Wade. He sounds so distraught, so tired.

 

“Don’t apologize, baby boy. You don’t have to talk about it,” Wade tells him softly, because there are things he would rather not say out loud too. 

 

Even if he wishes that Peter would share with him, he also knows that every moment since the day he’d been caught in Peter’s not-even-figurative-but-yeah-also-figurative web has been more than he could have possibly asked for.

 

“...Mkay,” Peter yawns, and before long, his hand has gone limp in Wade’s. He savors the contact for another few seconds, before retracting his hand carefully, sure not to wake him up.

 

* * *

 

However warm and inviting May Parker’s home is, it can’t calm Wade’s anxiety. He still isn’t entirely sure how Peter looks at him without his mask, let alone someone new, someone who likely will not be charmed by him. He doesn’t even get how Peter is charmed by him half the time.

 

He’d spent the last few evenings after recovering from the explosion, hanging out on Peter’s sofa and watching shows while snacking almost constantly. They both have hyperactive metabolisms, so they’re always chowing down on something high calorie and delicious.

 

[ _ You might as well move in.]  _

 

[[ _ Pfffft _ .  _ That would require him to make a move. Any move.]] _

 

The day before Thanksgiving, Peter tells him to be over at noon the next day. He doesn’t even remember that he hasn’t formally invited Wade to Thanksgiving dinner. Like it’s a given. It’s only when Wade shows up and they immediately head out the door does he realize he’s being taken over to his childhood home, and that it means he’ll be introduced to Peter’s aunt.

 

[[ _ YOU’RE BEING TAKEN HOME TO MEET THE PARENTS HOLYSHIT. _ ]]

 

[ _ What exactly is he thinking? We aren’t this type of guy. We’ll fuck it up and Peter won’t be friends with us if his aunt openly hates us. We should run. Now. Before his nose gets all pink from the cold outside, because we won’t be able to say no to him - _ ]

 

[[ _ Too late, we’re fuckin’ doomed. _ ]]

 

Wade staunchly ignores the boxes and takes in the home that Peter grew up in. It’s quaint and cozy, the lighting golden and gentle, all the furniture well worn and comfortable looking. A working class family’s home, with knick knacks on shelves and pictures on walls and too many throw pillows.

 

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, feeling out of place among the soft and loved things he’s surrounded by. Peter included. He’s beginning to feel better about it, but even now, his apprehension is through the roof. He wants May Parker to like him, but considering her nephew is one of very few decent people who ever has, he can’t allow himself to hope.

 

Even so, he’s not wearing his mask. Peter had encouraged him not to, and however difficult it is to understand, he doesn’t run screaming or puke whenever he looks at his face. He’d even touched him there, hands gentle and eyes unyielding while Wade stitched himself back together on his sofa. If May Parker raised that kind of person, she must be the sort that won’t balk at a little (okay, a lot) of scar tissue and the occasional half open wound.

 

Peter tugs on Wade’s sleeve when he sees him hovering in the entryway. Wade follows him to the kitchen, where a lovely older woman is bustling, setting up the meal.

 

“Everything smells delicious, Aunt May,” Peter greets her with an easy smile. 

 

“Peter, it’s  _ so _ good to see you,” she turns to him and gathers him up in a hug. “Mary Jane will be here in a little while, I hope that’s okay.”

 

“It’ll be good to see MJ. It’s been ages.” Peter confirms, and then looks over his shoulder at Wade, who is stuck in the archway. “Aunt May, this is -”

 

“Wade! Yes, of course, I remember,” May greets him with a hug too, and Wade isn’t actually sure what to do with that. Who looks at this face and decides to get  _ closer  _ to it? “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so glad you could make it, there’s  _ plenty _ of food. I just need to chop up this fruit and I can come visit with you two in the den.”

 

“I’m actually pretty good with a knife, you know,” Wade finds himself saying.

 

“Oh, really?” May answers, looking amused. Definitely better than terrified. Wow, she and Peter really are related. Their eyes are different shades of brown but they’re shaped the same, and Wade can feel the tenderness they exude from across the room.

 

“Oh, yeah, I’m actually a bit of a connoisseur. Did Petey not tell you about my extensive collection of knives? Well, let me tell you, they can chop a melon! Pineapple? You got it! Even got some little ones for the kiwis and strawberries,” Wade tells her boisterously, finally stepping into the kitchen, armed with his bravado. “Looks like you have a good assortment here yourself! You keep them sharp too. Why, if I didn’t know better, Mrs. Parker, I’d think you had a career in mercenary work yourself. No?  _ Just _ cooking? You sure? If you say so.”

 

He winks exaggeratedly and May giggles.

 

Peter looks happy when he checks on him, so Wade figures he must be doing okay.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is a little less smooth, but it could be that Wade perceives it as such because when MJ shows up, she is way too pretty to be fair. 

 

The conversation is pleasant enough, and Wade is pretty sure he’s actually winning May over. To be fair, he’d basically been raised by the Golden Girls, so when in doubt, he channels Blanche, which seems to put everyone in a good mood. MJ doesn’t seem to get the references, but Wade tries not to hold that against her - he’s way too jealous of her history with Peter anyway, so her clear lack of television taste is the least of his grief with her.

 

Most of the time, May is asking about college. MJ is majoring in journalism, with plans to be an investigative reporter, which is cool enough that Wade has to actively try not to sulk. 

 

On the other hand, he gets to hear Peter talk about his major, bioengineering, and watching him geek out about computation modeling electromagnetic radiation and whatever else is enough to lift Wade’s spirits again. Peter is truly a giant nerd. Frighteningly smart in fact, which made sense, considering that he interns with Tony Stark.

 

“How do you even fit all of that science in here?” Wade asks, touching Peter’s head and inspecting it with a comically scrupulous expression. “Stark at least as a big ol’ head, so I can see where he’s keeping his brains, but you? ”

 

MJ watches with a small, knowing smile and May snickers behind her hand.

 

“Pshhh,” Peter pushes on his chest playfully, going pink. “C’mon, Wade, don’t act like you’re any less. Don’t you know like, a dozen languages?”

 

“Eighteen,” he corrects, offering a cocky grin. 

 

“Oh my,” May gasps in an impressed tone that make Wade’s boxes go crazy. One moment they’re encouraging him to try and be more charming, and the next they seem to be trying to sabotage the entire gathering. He’s managed to avoid anything too crude or invasive so far.

 

“Well, I was in the military for a while, traveling all over,” He tells her, giving a little salute. “Gotta be able to talk my way out of trouble in a bunch of different countries. Not everyone can have big trustworthy doe eyes like the Parker fam.”

 

“I used to call him  _ bambi _ ,” MJ tacks on, looking a little devious. Peter groans, sinking low in his chair, and Wade readies himself for what he’s sure must be an embarrassing childhood story.

 

* * *

 

“Peter and I have been neighbors since we were little,” MJ tells him when they’re left in the living room together, encouraged by both May and Peter to relax there in the post dinner glow. Wade fully intends to do the dishes sneakily as soon as MJ is done with - whatever this convo is. 

 

“He told me.”

 

“Did he tell you we almost dated?”

 

“Makes sense.” Maybe Wade is a little too curt about it. They much know each other well, and it’s difficult to compete with that kind of background. He bounces his knee and considers fleeing, not for the first time.

 

“I think we work better as friends though.” She pauses. “My parents weren’t around much. Well, mentally. Drunks. Aunt May pretty much raised me from next door.”

 

Wade’s heart grows three sizes but he tries to play it off. Of course she has a tragic backstory too, in addition to pursuing a brave, self-sacrificing profession. She and Peter are perfect for each other.

 

“Oh, hey, my parents were addicts!  _ So  _ relatable.” He does finger guns. “Didn’t have Aunt May, but I think I turned out okay. Except for like,” he gestures in a circular motion around his face. “All this. That wasn’t really my parents fault, that was mine. But then, I guess if you wanna look at it an existential way, my own bad decisions could be due to my parents, so I guess I  _ could _ blame them!”

 

“You’re rambling,” MJ points out, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“I’m a ramblin’ man,” Wade agrees solemnly, in a very twangy country accent. 

 

The boxes are screaming at him to run, or kill her, or kill himself, or a hundred other things he absolutely won’t do. MJ sighs and then leans in, propping her elbows on her knees.

 

“...Has he told you about Gwen yet?”

 

His curiosity is peaked even as his heart plummeted.

 

“That his girlfriend?” He guesses, with too much enthusiasm, to hide how dejected it made him feel to think Peter had a girlfriend he hadn’t even mentioned before. 

 

“Used to be,” MJ answers, watching him with a calculating expression. “You should ask him about her sometime.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll get on that,” Wade replies, though he doesn’t really know how he would bring up Peter’s ex. Judging by the expression on MJ’s face, she must have done a number on him. "We'll totally dish."

 

[ _ Probably the root of his trust issues.] _

 

_ [[Can we kill  _ her _ at least? She hurt him! She must be evil, and it’s been ages!]] _

 

“What’s the play here?” Wade asks suddenly, tilting his head at her and wishing he’d at least brought his mask with him, because her skin is flawless. She’s tiny in comparison to him, smaller than Peter, but he feels himself shrinking under her beauty and genuinely confident demeanor. “Why are you offering up info on Peter to me? I’m surprised you’re even talking to me one on one. I don’t know if you noticed, but I am very tough to look at.”

 

“Blah blah blah shovel talk blah,” she states, waving her hand dismissively. “Although, I’m a little worried that I couldn’t take you.”

 

“You couldn’t,” Wade agrees. Not that he would ever lay a finger on Peter’s childhood sweetie.

 

“I know a friend of the Incredible Hulk, though,” she points out, glancing over to where Peter is putting away leftovers. Wade wonders if Peter knows she knows. He thinks maybe not. She seems smart and even a little bit sly. Yeah, she’ll make a good investigative reporter. 

 

“He can take me _any day,_ ” Wade sighs, perhaps a bit too filthily. 

 

She snorts and rolls her eyes at him.

 

“Listen,” she says, sobering. “Peter thinks highly of you. That goes pretty far with anyone who knows him, and he doesn’t bring people over to meet May lightly.”

 

Wade heart swells again and he regrets hating her stupid unblemished face so hard, almost.

 

“But he’s kind of oblivious sometimes. It’s part of why it never happened between us,” She shrugs and then stands up. “So good luck with that. I’m rooting for you guys. That said, that’s all for talk corner. I’m going to go lay down. I almost ate myself into a food coma.”

 

“Right there with you,” Wade starts to say, but it comes out as more of a mumble than anything - she’s already up and headed to the stairs anyway, not waiting for his answer.

 

Wade takes the advice in stride. It isn’t as though he can do anything with it, because no matter how carefully he proceeded, it could possibly ruin this friendship. He would have to live every day knowing he’d messed up the best thing that had ever happened to him.

 

It’s a simple choice, to do nothing.

 

He’ll take whatever Peter is willing to give him, and this is already more than he could have ever dream of earning back. Maybe he isn’t just a charity case, but there’s no need to push the boundaries in hopes that Peter might be willing to actually  _ kiss _ a face like this. There are limits to the miracles that one man can be gifted, especially one like him.

 

He looks at Peter in the kitchen as he pulls tin foil over take-home plates and snaps tupperware into place for May’s fridge. Wade figures it’s about time he helps with the dishes, pushing MJ’s well meaning counsel out of mind.

 

This is enough. 

 

* * *

 

Peter gives Wade his spare key a couple of weeks later. They’ve either gone patrolling or hung out at his apartment every day since the Splodo Incident, often both. They’ve even gone to Wade’s a few times, if they were closer at the end of the evening. It’s becoming enough of a habit that Wade is sure he’s going to go into a physical detox when it ends.

 

The first snow doesn’t stick to the ground, but they make plans for a snowball fight the first time there’s a substantial amount. May has already informed Wade that there’s a stocking for him on the mantle, and Wade still can’t figure out how to handle the wholesomeness of it. Mary Jane had even stolen his phone number from Peter’s phone and had already sent him a few aggressive yet strangely friendly texts so far - mostly suggestions for presents to buy Peter for the quickly approaching holiday.

 

A few of them are actually _naughty_ recommendations, which his boxes find endlessly hilarious and intriguing. He does too, both in the legitimately funny way and in the never-gonna-happen sad way. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant for this chapter to be about more than just thanksgiving but i got carried away?? i enjoyed writing MJ a lot and am actually pretty excited to make her wade's friend. hopefully there was a good balance of comfort, pining, and fluffy/sass to keep things interesting~
> 
> already started on the next chapter. can't wait to hear your thoughts, my good peeps~


	10. we take hints as they come, they come

With finals approaching, Peter has less time to binge shows on Netflix with Wade, and the way he misses him becomes an almost ever-present ache behind his ribcage. His solace is basically only that his homework is extensive enough that he always has something to do to get his mind off it.

 

They still patrol together most nights, but that's _work_. A few days in a row he brings his laptop with him to finish a presentation while he waits for signs of trouble and soon Wade is even helping him with his flashcards when things are slow.

 

This time of year there are more people to talk off of ledges than criminals to subdue.

 

Tonight, he can’t help but watch Wade trying to pronounce a long and terrible word, a word no one except a biochemistry student should ever know, for almost a full minute. The snow is falling around them and creating a glittering dust over all of the playground equipment, which is equal parts magical and melancholy. Wade is on a swing, while Peter is perched on the bar it hangs from.

 

Wade has already commented on the ‘view from below’ a more than once.

 

“I think my brain is fried like a donut,” Wade admits, flopping off of the swing set and into the fine layer of white beneath it. “Ugh, now I want donuts! It’s that Chanukah time of year, so there’s probably a ton of them like, really close by.”

 

Peter agrees, but gets oddly distracted by the the silhouette of Wade’s form left in the snow when he gets up. It’s not as though he doesn’t know the breadth of those shoulders by now or that his head might be able to tuck just so beneath his chin, but seeing it outlined so clearly for him catches him off guard. Wade has to call him again to snap him out of it.

 

Maybe his brain is fried too, because he really should have figured it out right then.

  


* * *

 

 

While Peter doesn’t get cold as easily as people without radioactive spider bites to rely on, the lowering temperatures make his muscles more stiff and his normally latent menstruation symptoms more prominent. It makes this time of year frustrating and depressing, in more than just the usual ways, not to mention more than a little dysphoric.

 

He texts Wade that he’s skipping patrol tonight unless something comes up. He’ll keep the police radio on low and keep an ear out for it, but he wants to burrow under his blanket and eat comfort food and watch something that will inspire him to tears. It’s either that, or be on the verge of crying every few hours at every slight inconvenience. As well-versed as he is in biology thanks to his area of study, there are still days where he resents the entire topic, as it relates to him and otherwise.

 

Just as he’s beginning to doze off on his sofa, he hears the jingle of keys and a familiar voice humming the tune to a song he can’t quite place. A moment later, Wade walks through the door and straight into Peter’s tiny kitchen, which is even more of a mess than usual since he hasn’t had the energy or the willpower to clean.

 

“Sick days are the worst, but luckily you have an expert caretaker with a spare key. I saw a can of soup in your pantry the other day, and figured you wouldn’t have the strength to actually cook it properly. Microwaving soup makes the noodles like _rubber,_ Petey-pie, I swear, I’ll never understand your nubile taste buds, but we’ll fix that right -”

 

Wade stops short, catching Peter off guard more than his sudden appearance and insistence that he cook for him. That had happened more than a couple times, in fact.

 

“Ha, _Midol!?_ ” Wade exclaims, snatching up the bottle from the counter and tossing it a few times between his hands. “These the only meds you have? _What_ , are you on your period?”

 

He’s clearly joking, and there’s a brief instant where Peter considers evading, just laughing it off.

 

Instead, he -

 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says, “I kinda am.”

 

Wade makes a strangled sound and almost drops the bottle of pills, fumbling to catch it. The rattling sound it makes until he grasps it in his hand is actually a funny backdrop to his mistake. Peter fidgets with the blanket he’s curled up in and looks back over his shoulder at Wade.

 

“...Kinda?” Wade prompts weakly.

 

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, “Well. It’s not the, uh... whole deal anymore, but I still get killer cramps sometimes.”

 

Another beat passes.

 

“Well, _fuck me sideways_.” Wade plants his face in his palm firmly. A second later, he pops back up, exuberant as ever.  “Here I was thinking you were soup sick! Baby boy, I coulda picked up ice cream on the way over! I was just walking by the shop where they have this absolutely mind-blowing peanut butter and oreo cookie! I mean, obviously I’m going to go get it _now_ , but it’s going to take up our precious quality time! Work with me here, Webs, I swear. Think logistics! Are you a rocket scientist or aren’t you?”

 

He’s practically gushing, leaping past his faux pas admirably. He’s talking with his hands more than usual, like he does whenever he’s put his foot in his mouth, but it’s clear he’s taking this in stride. A little embarrassed, but it’s not like Peter had really given him the opportunity to avoid it.

 

“I’m really  _not_ ,” Peter laughs, which hurts his stomach a bit, but he can’t bring himself to care.

 

“Oh, _now_ you’re not a rocket scientist, but when I wanted to see what would happen if I ate mentos and rocket fuel, you were _so sure_ that it was a bad idea! The absolute _nerve_.”

 

Peter watches him leave with a dopey smile on his face.

 

He really should have figured it out that day, if not the night in the park. He feels kind of stupid when he looks back on this, recalls how content he’d felt in that moment.

 

He’d known there was no chance of rejection, or lack of understanding, or even invasive questions, Peter had felt entirely secure in the notion that Wade would come back soon, rather than avoiding him like a couple people had done prior, even if only to ‘sort through their thoughts on it’. He almost feels guilty for not mentioning it before, but nothing Wade says when he returns (with not only ice cream, but snacks, a heating blanket, and chamomile tea) shames him for not coming out sooner.

 

It doesn’t even feel like coming out, per se. It just feels like another thing Wade has learned about him, the smallest adjustment. Like how they’d learned each other’s favorite coffee orders, and now it was common sense between them.

 

“ -and oh, man, you know what Vanessa always liked to watch on her bad tummy days? _The Princess Bride_ . Not that there’s ever a bad time for a rewatch of that movie. We’d have all the fixins - y’know, ice cream and potato chips and hot tea, mostly - and then I’d build a blanket fort. I liked to call it _Cramp Camp_ , don’t look at me like that, you know you love it -”

 

And he’s right, Peter absolutely does.

 

* * *

 

After finals are over, it snows hard enough that they finally get around to their snowball fight. It’s winter break, so they decide to find a patch of land in the park to begin building their ditches and front lines. They go all out, and get carried away building several barricades to hide behind and trash talking each other to build up to the competition.

 

Before they know it, the sun is beginning to rise.

 

“Damn,” Wade says, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“What is it?” Peter asks, keeping up his playfully belligerent tone. “Scared of a little daylight? Or are you too tired already?”

 

“You wish, Itsy,” Wade shoots back, but still doesn’t look entirely up for it. Peter tilts his head, and hops up, approaching Wade considerately.

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s just,” Wade sighs. “Kids will be coming out to play soon. I’m not exactly a family friendly icon, like you, Spidey. They’ll probably be scared, if they recognize me, or their parents will tell them to go home, and I don’t want to ruin their fun.”

 

Peter’s heart clenches, and he reaches out without thinking and takes Wade’s hand. It’s warm, like it often is, his healing factor never letting his atoms be still for long.

 

“C’mon. Let’s change their minds,” Peter says, tugging him along.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, the first kids start running to the park. First it’s the older kids, the ones who are allowed out on their own, but over the next series of minutes more and more children begin to trickle into the park. Their parents haven’t seemed to catch on yet, perhaps assuming that they’re just two people in costume there to entertain, which they figure is probably for the best.

 

At first, a crowd is forming around them. Peter is pelting Wade with a barrage of quick and small snowballs. While Wade can’t keep up with the speed of it, he tends to throw with more accuracy, and has learned to predict which direction Peter intends to dodge.

 

“Who wants to play?” Peter asks them after a bit, tossing a snowball from hand to hand casually.

 

The kids waste no time clamoring to get closer, some of them falling over in their haste.

 

“I wanna be on Spider-man’s team!”

 

“Omigod, me too!”

 

“C’mon!”

 

“Isn’t _that_ Spider-man too?”

 

"Whaaa?"

 

“You don’t know anything!”

 

Soon, Peter is surrounded by the group of them, staring apologetically across the battlefield at Wade, who stands alone.

 

“Say it isn’t so!” Wade whines, swinging his arms melodramatically, and then stomping his feet in the snow like he’s throwing a tantrum. “Not a single one of you are gonna pick me? What am I, an especially deep bugger? You guys chicken? Am I chopped liver?”

 

Peter feels bad, considering it was his idea to stay here. He considers switching things around, so that they each pick one child at a time and end up with even team sizes. Just then, a little girl points at Wade, wide-eyed.

 

“You’re funny!” Then she squeals and takes off across the field toward Wade.

 

Peter can see Wade hesitate with shock, before recovering and laughing boisterously.

 

“Hey now, someone has good taste!” Wade boasts, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. “Anyone else? You sure? Aaaaaalriiiiiight, but just so you know, I have it on _Captain America’s_ authority that Spider-man’s got _super_ stinky feet!”

 

There’s a chorus of ‘eeeeeew’ from the children and several of them back away from them, pinching their noses as they switch sides, while Peter makes a show of sputtering indignantly.

 

“You’ll pay for that, Deadpool!” He yells dramatically.

 

“After I beat you, I’ll pay for some foot cream, for those _stank ass feet!_ ”

 

Even the kids still on his side roar with laughter, and Peter has a hard time not doing so himself. He’s grinning from ear to ear beneath his mask, but he tries to keep up the facade, as the kids seem to be amused at the idea that even Spider-man has stinky feet. Some of them even begin insisting to each other that it’s the cool thing, to have feet that smell, and that they intend to tell their mothers.

 

* * *

 

The fight is chaos, like only a massive impromptu snowball fight featuring kids of all ages can be, but no one gets hurt. A few parents peel their kids away from the fun, whispering worriedly to their children and hurrying them back to their vehicles (in some cases, they drag their reluctant, crying children away), but most of them stick around for the better part of the morning.

 

“Oh no, oh god,” Wade moans loudly, flopping into the snow and dramatically dragging himself as if trying to flee from a hoard of children and failing miserably. “ _I’m comin’ home, Elizabeeeeth! I’m coming! This is the big one._ Oh lawd! They’re killin’ me, it’s too much, how will I ever cope? They don’t even wash between their toes! What about behind their ears? Oh god, what about _behind their ears?_ This is the end, oh nooooo -”

 

The children are laughing like crazy, pelting him with snow all the while.

 

Next time they pick teams, it's pretty much even. Wade is beaming through his mask and Peter having such a good time that he wants to ignore his phone when it rings. But it’s Tony’s ringtone, and it’s possible that he’s needed for an emergency, so he takes a timeout and heads over to the picnic tables to answer the phone.

 

* * *

 

“Are you seriously having a snowball fight in a park with Deadpool and four dozen children?”

 

“Yeah, you want in on it?” Peter asks wryly. “We could probably squeeze you in, but it’s brutal out here. These kids don’t play fair.”

 

Tony huffs quietly. “I don’t care about this crap, but you know what the press is going to say. What they’re already saying. Your reputation has only just gotten a little better since you began working with us, and this happening? Doesn’t look good, Parker. It just looks like you’re playing with a murderer in a park, with _kids around._ On the holiest of all days, or whatever. I’m sure the Bugle is going to say you’re declaring war on Christmas.”

 

“They’d say that anyway,” Peter points out.

 

“This is your choice. I’m not even saying you’re entirely wrong, just that there isn’t going to be a lot we can do to protect you from the backlash.”

 

“I get it.”  


“Do you?”

 

“Yeah. I do. It’s just, I guess I don’t care that much. Those people will hate anything just for something to do. If he’s something that’s ‘happening to me’,” Peter begins, watching as about five children try to climb Wade all at once. There are two on his shoulders, another on his back, and two more clutching either one of his legs. “Then he’s probably the best thing that ever has.”

 

Abruptly, Peter realizes he means that, he means it _hard._  All at once he knows that he wants to spend next Christmas with Wade too. And the one after that, and the one after that. Every Christmas to come, and every other special occasion too. Maybe every day, ever -

 

_Oh._

 

“...Christ.”

 

“Sure, you can complain some more to him if you like,” Peter quips. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark.”

 

Then he disconnects the call and runs back into the fray.

 

-

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just cause they both know it's endgame now doesn't mean the wait is over. 
> 
>  
> 
> tommorrow belongs to my lovely wife. this fic is dedicated to you, as am i.
> 
> happy valentine's day~


	11. we do better than we think we can

Christmas is even better than Thanksgiving, shared with just Aunt May and Peter this time. Peter gets him a unicorn themed robe for times when his suit is destroyed in battle, and May surprises both of them by giving him a dagger, with a _pink_ handle. Wade puts it in the wall of his apartment right in the entryway, so that he sees it whenever he walks in or out, and he wears the robe as often as he can, considering it’s just his style.

 

Although MJ has several suggestions for what Wade could get for Peter, he settles on something safe, if only because the boxes haven’t suggested it. It’s a dark blue sweater with a little red spider embroidered into it, cashmere and a size or so too big for optimum comfort. Peter puts it on immediately and Wade blushes whenever he looks at him, trying not to imagine him in _only_ that sweater, and failing miserably.

 

For MJ, Wade sends her a Get Well Soon card with hush money in it, since she’s been threatening to tell Peter about his crush. She sends him back a Congrats! card with ‘ _on being a coward’_ scribbled inside and a polaroid of her middle finger folded into it.

 

For May, he gets an entirely new set of professional quality kitchen knives - they have a good laugh about giving each other such similarly dangerous (and practical, Wade argues) gifts. Peter rolls his eyes at both of them good-naturedly, but doesn’t stop smiling the entire night.

 

* * *

 

New Years starts even better. May never stays up for the official New Year, and MJ is spending it with her boyfriend at a party, so he gets to spend it patrolling with just Spidey all night long.

 

[ _You know what else we could do all night long?]_

 

[[ _Ha! YeAH, we do!_ ]]

 

Wade chuckles to himself. The boxes are just as smitten as he is at this point, and knowing that makes their more crass comments bearable. He still gets jealous of them, _himself_ , from time to time, but his mind is living in a bit more harmony with itself these days, thanks to Peter Parker.

 

New Years Eve is full of loud and boisterous party goers, and most of what they do is save the drunks from themselves. They spot a few would-be drunk drivers too, and call them out before they can get behind the wheel. There’s some gang activity, and a few fights that almost go too far, but they aren’t the most memorable part of the night by far.

 

It's late, already next year, when Peter stops giggling at one of Wade's jokes sharply.

 

He climbs to the edge of the roof to hear whatever he hears better. Wade goes quiet to let him do his thing. Even though Wade can’t see his face, he can tell his entire demeanor changes, darkens. When he falls back to the ground, Wade follows him, his own posture tense at the prospect of what they might find, at what might make Spidey go this solemnly quiet.

 

They find a man taking advantage of a woman that's too drunk to stand, ushering her into his car. When they get her away from him, she insists that she doesn’t want to call the police with slurred words. Peter doesn’t push her, and gets her into a cab with a female driver. Wade growls an ominous threat and kicks her assailant in the balls, leaving him weeping in the cold.

 

“Usually you scold me about ‘unnecessary violence’,” Wade says quietly. They just keep walking for a while by each other’s side as the morning approaches.

 

“I wanted to do worse,” Peter admits. “Glad you stopped there, I...might’ve let you.”

 

“Damn, shoulda cheered me on, baby boy. Next time.” Wade is only half joking. It isn’t like Peter to say something like that, and it makes his stomach sour. He’s not judging, just concerned. His attempt to lighten the mood doesn’t work, and it almost always does. “He was a sneaky one. Subtle. Most of those kind, they get away with it. Sometimes I’d be hired after the fact, to teach them a lesson, or gut them maybe, let’s be honest, but preventing it is...well. Uncommon.”

 

Peter is too quiet. Wade swallows the panic rising in his throat.

 

“How did you know what he was?”

 

Peter’s feet shuffle in the snow.

 

“...His voice. Even though it was gentle, it was all wrong.”

 

“So,” Wade starts, voice lower still to keep it from wavering. “It set off your spidey sense?”

 

Peter stops and turns to him, then reaches out and takes his hand. Which is tougher than usual, consider it’s balled up into a fist so tight it’s shaking.

 

“Something like that,” Peter murmurs, too calm. It only seems to bring attention to the paralyzed, sick feeling spreading through his own body. He wants to know, he doesn’t want to know. “C’mon, your place isn’t far. I want to watch something stupid and silly. Okay?”

 

Wade nods, and the boxes are silent the whole walk home.

 

* * *

 

The beginning of the year passes in a flurry, and not just because of the snow flurries. Bad guys really hit the ground running this year. Patrolling keeps them busy, more criminals coming out of the woodwork each week. Peter luckily has more time to spend with him afterward or before, without finals immediately looming, but it’s also the end of his senior year, so there are always projects and essays to be worked on or tests to study for.

 

Not to mention, he intends to get his PhD, so there’s no real end in sight, just breaks. Why does the love of his life have to be such a gigantic nerd? He’s going to have to get smarter.

 

“Did you make a resolution to do _more_ crime?” Peter asks a mugger when he's hanging upside down from his cool ass webs.

 

“Maybe it was to do less crime,” Wade suggests. “But he gave up because people never stick to New Years Resolutions.”

 

“It's the 6th!” Peter says, fake-aghast. “Have you no will power at all? Pretty sure most people last at least a week. I hope you don’t smoke, because that’s going to be _rough -_ ”

 

“Shut up, freak,” the man snarls at him, snapping his teeth viciously.

 

It’s pretty pathetic, and Wade is annoyed enough with his rudeness that he pushes his chest with the intention of leaving him swinging there. He’d probably throw up a few times before the cops could get there, if Peter hadn’t felt bad and stilled him. He knocks Wade on the shoulder when he gets back and then scoops him up ( _oh boy, he’s gonna start needing some warning because that is way too hot)_ and swings back toward their rooftop for the night.

 

“What kind of sick fucks wrote the movie where you die?” Wade laments loudly over the rush of the wind as they soar between buildings. “Even if it’s not _you_ you, I’ll kill them!”

 

“What!?” Peter shouts back, very likely unable to hear him, and even if he could, it’s not like it would make any sense. Wade chimes ‘nothing!’ and holds him a little tighter.

 

* * *

 

“Where should you eat me out tonight?”

 

Wade spins around suddenly, feeling hot all over. The boxes have gone more nuts than usual, offering suggestions like ‘the kitchen counter’ and ‘have him stick to the wall so we can stand’ and various other positions he has no business thinking about.

 

“Whuh _, what?_ ”

 

Peter raises his eyebrows, looking thrown off. He has a Chinese menu in left hand, and an Italian menu in the right. He tilts his head, looking way too cute in his the sweater Wade had given him and equally baggy sweatpants.

 

“...Where should we eat out tonight?”

 

“Oh,” Wade breathes, feeling like he wants to punch himself in the face. Or eat Peter out. Wait, fuck, no, _stop it, you shitty boxes, you aren’t making this any easier._

 

“Are you angry about something?” Peter asks, eyes bright and curious.

 

“Not at you,” Wade grumbles. “At this fuckin’ author. Pretty sure they live to make me suffer, but what can you do?”

 

“Heh,” Peter gives a small, confused chuckle. “So…Chinese?”

 

* * *

 

During one of their evening hangs, Peter falls asleep on the couch beside him, slumped toward him, head on his shoulder. Wade makes a small squeak of a sound and then holds his breath, releasing it slowly and tries to calm down, doing his best not to focus too hard on the shouting boxes in his head, telling him to run, or cuddle, or - unsurprisingly - kill himself to escape the dilemma.

 

He’s so fucking cute it isn’t fair. Peter Parker is so adorable curled up against his side and breathing shallowly - no nightmares this time, not yet anyway - that Wade could shrivel up and waste away right here, now, and be relatively fine with it. He’d never get to kiss him, but he was never going to get to anyway. The boxes groan and grumble and yell at him to suck it up (and then, suck Peter up,

 

Even if Peter’s gaze has been lingering longer these days, and even if he occasionally looks like he wants to say something sweeter than usual and then gets too embarrassed to do so. Wade is imagining things, and it’s probably all MJ’s fault for encouraging him.

 

[[ _At least now we know why she sent us that pic of a sex toy with a clit massager as a gift suggestion. The sweater we got him wasn’t nearly as good as that.]_

 

[ _We thought it was a sexy but inaccurate gag before, but it was actually a sexy serious suggestion. Do you think he’d like it?_ ]

 

[[ _We think about it every chance we get. Probably a bit much for him though._ ]]

 

[ _Yeah but that’s almost the point! Would he_ like _it though -_ ]

 

A knock at the door cuts off his train of thought, and Wade isn’t entirely sure if he’s relieved or irritated by the interruption. On one hand, he really shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about Peter while he looks so cute and sleeps so peacefully at his side. On the other hand, it’s hard not to, and he ‘ain’t a saint’ either.

 

As gently as possible, he shifts himself out from under Peter, catching his head on a throw pillow and lying him down cautiously. He covers him up with his Spidey blanket a little more - they’re at his apartment tonight, and it’s one of many Spidey themed items he owns.

 

Wade pulls on his mask on the way to the door, and almost shits himself when he looks through the peephole (the boxes snicker moronically) and sees who his visitor is. He unlatches the deadbolt and the chain and clicks the knob lock over too, hardly able to contain his excitement and confusion.

 

“I meant to come by sooner,” Captain fuckin’ America says to him when he opens the door. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

 

“Buh,” Wade begins. He glances over to the side, where his couch is. “Are you here for Spidey?”

 

Steve Rogers blinks, his brow furrowing slightly.

 

“Spider-man is _here_?”

 

Rogers’ eyes immediately shifts behind him, and Wade moves to block the view of Peter.

 

“Ah ah,” Wade says, wagging a finger. “He doesn’t have his mask on, so you don’t get to see. He’s sleeping, so I’m not inviting you in. Also, keep that beautiful baritone at a low volume, capiche?”

 

“Capiche,” Steve says seriously, amused and then appraising. “He must really trust you.”

 

“For some reason,” Wade agrees. “Fuck knows why, but here I am, trying my best not to screw it up. And here you are, also for some reason, I suspect. Not for Spidey, if you didn’t know he was here. I’m guessing there’s a reason though. I’m the only person I know who does things for no reason, and you’re not insane, so. What’s the reason?”

 

Captain America offers him a small smile and holds out his hand.

 

“I wanted to thank you, in person.”

 

“Bwah?” Wade gurgles, staring at the offered hand. “Thank? Me? Why? For what? Huh?”

 

“For saving him,” Rogers answers simply. “We lapsed, he could have been badly hurt, and it was only because you were there looking out for him that he wasn’t.”

 

Wade gargles, a confused and overwhelmed sound in the back of his throat.

 

“Also for helping the Avengers, even though it’s been a thankless job for you especially,” Rogers nods a bit. “We have a lot to learn from Spider-man.”

 

Wade takes the hand and shakes it profusely. 

 

“Wow! _Wowowowowowow._ This is just like a fantasy of mine, or a dream I had once maybe? You were probably wearing less clothes though. Ouch, don’t worry too much, I stayed fully clothed, no one wants to see this mug - well, except maybe Spidey, but I think he must be a little _coo coo for coacoa puffs_ too,” Wade let's the hand go and then clasps his together. “I’d squeeze your butt if I hadn’t recently been informed that it’s highly inappropriate, and also because there’s only one butt I really want to squeeze, so it’s really a total eclipse of the butt, if you know what I mean.”

 

“I...think I might,” Rogers says, going a little pink in the cheeks and then coughing a little. “Well, that’s the only reason I stopped by. I hope you’ll come help us out more often, perhaps even in more of a formal capacity.

 

“I’ll go anywhere Spidey goes!” Wade confirms, then amends. “Or, anywhere he approves of. I don’t have much of a moral compass myself, so he’s sort of my True North, ya dig?”

 

Rogers’ mouth quirks at the left corner. “I’ll have Stark send you a comm.”

 

“You got it, toots!” Wade sticks up both of his thumbs in affirmation and then kicks the door shut. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he sinks against the door like a delighted girl in a romcom, or maybe like a distressed girl in a romcom. It’s a very dynamic pose, to be sure.

 

“Mhm, Wade?” A groggy voice comes from the couch a moment later. Wade pops up eagerly.

 

“Omigawd, Petey-pie, you’ll never guess who you _just_ missed! I’m gonna be able to chat your ear off while we save the world like, _all_ the time now! Oh boy, will the rest of the Avengers be able to hear me too? Wow, Cap is going to live to regret this one, but _no take-backsies!_ ”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk man i guess i posted today anyway, what can you do? (lol please give me your praise)


	12. we always know less than we think

Part of the issue is that Peter has never romantically confessed to anyone before. 

 

He’s obviously had crushes, on Gwen and MJ most prominently, but MJ had eventually gotten over him and Gwen had been the one to ask  _ him  _ out after months of waiting for him to work up the nerve. Like with Wade, he had been afraid of mucking things up if they said no, or the date went badly, or even if down the line something were to derail, he’d  _ lose his best friend.  _

 

The thought made him sick to his stomach whenever he considered it. He hadn’t convinced himself yet that ‘not quite enough’ was worse than ‘potentially nothing at all’ yet. Considering the lucky he’s had in life, he’s overcome with the irrational fear of losing the only person he can be himself around. Wade can’t die, but he can disappear in other ways that are just as much Peter’s fault.

 

He didn’t  _ think _ Wade would say no, but he also wasn’t entirely convinced that Wade didn’t just flirt with everyone. He seemed to like Peter back, to find him attractive, but he also seemed to be pretty infatuated with Captain America and Dr. Banner, too. Peter could be wrong, and the more time he wasted thinking about it, the more he convinced himself that must be the case. 

 

He won’t know until he asks, Peter  _ knows _ that, but working up the nerve to do so was about 70% of the problem. There were several times when it seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, a perfect moment of peace between them, but then he’d open his mouth and choke on the question.

 

Another part of it is the increase in crime, especially desperate muggings thanks to postponed tax returns, not to mention the rise in hate crimes and acts of terrorism, thanks to emboldened white supremacism, as encouraged by certain powers that (unfortunately) be. 

 

The other, less predictable, part of it is -

 

“Hey there, Pete.”

 

A familiar voice greets him as soon as Peter plops into his chair at the Bugle. He looks up, surprised to find a journalist he hasn’t seen in two years leaning on the desk across from him.

 

“Eddie?” His eyebrows raise. “Whoa, man, it’s been a while. Good to see you. What are you doing all the way over on this coast?”

 

“I came here to do a story on Phil Ulrich,” Eddie Brock explains. “Someone already went the purely objective route, demonized the shit out of him. Maybe rightfully. But I figured as someone who worked with him, I might be able to lend a more personal angle to the whole thing.”

 

“That’s good of you,” Peter nods, mouth pulling into a frown as he looks into his lap. “I don’t think his dad works here anymore. I have his mom’s number though -”

 

“I already spoke to her,” Eddie offers him a small grin. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

 

“Me?” Peter says, trying to keep the surprised squeak out of his voice. 

 

“Yeah, you,” Eddie chuckles, then sinks down into the chair beside him, rolling forward and lowering his voice. Peter can see bags under his eyes, and - actually, now that he really looks, he looks pretty tired and unhealthy. “I had a run in with someone here, and I was hoping you could put me into contact with a friend of yours.”

 

Oh, right. That makes more sense. Peter Parker is known as Spider-man’s friend at the Bugle. He can’t help but be relieved - if anyone where to figure out his secret all on their own, it’d definitely be someone like Eddie Brock.

 

“I’m sure I can point him in your direction,” Peter offers, leaning in. “What should I tell him? He’s pretty busy, so he’ll want to know if it should really concern him.”

 

Eddie glances around and lowers his voice. “A friend of mine was, ah, taken.”

 

“You should go to the police, Eddie,” Peter tells him, brow furrowing. “Kidnapping is not at all Spider-man specific. What aren’t you telling me?”

 

“Well, said friend isn’t exactly,” Eddie winces. “ _ Human _ ? Neither is the guy who took him, at least not entirely. So I’m pretty sure the police can’t help.”

 

Peter’s eyebrows raise. “That’s...a lot. Save the rest for Spiderman.”

 

* * *

 

One of the first things Peter does is tell Wade all about his interaction with Eddie Brock, chatting on the phone with him while he heats up noodles.

 

“Sounds interesting,” Wade admits, though there’s something sulky about his tone. “Let’s meet him and get the 4-1-1, and then - baby boy, is that microwaving I hear in the background?”

 

“Uuuuuuuuh,” Peter stalls, mentally cursing himself for not waiting until he was off the phone. “It’s just ramen, Wade, I needed something quick. You literally just ate hot pockets the other day, so don’t act like you’re on some kind of health kick -”

 

“I heal almost instantly from any damage my crap food does to me,” Wade tells him, “You don’t! You barely sleep as it is, you need  _ energy.  _ You need  _ nutrients.  _ At least put the ramen in a pot and add veggies and your own spices, for the love of David Bowie, god rest his soul.”

 

“Wade, this was meant to be a  _ quick  _ snack. We’re meeting Eddie in an hour.”

 

“Fuck Eddie,” Wade practically growls, and despite the phrase it’s attached to, the sound sends a shiver all up and down Peter’s spine. “If I have to come over there and feed you every meal myself, Itsy, I  _ absolutely _ will -”

 

“Fiiiiine,” Peter groans, turning the microwave off and rolling his eyes. “I’m taking it out, okay? I’m taking it out. But I don’t have anything else in the fridge, so -”

 

“Swing on over, baby boy, I gotchu covered.”

 

* * *

 

“I was wondering if you’d bring Deadpool along,” Eddie says musingly. They arrive ten minutes late, thanks to Wade’s nutrition lecture and subsequent relocation.

 

“Have you  _ read all about me _ ?” Wade asks, striking a pose that makes Peter have to hold back a snort. His voice is deepened through a function in his suit at the moment, like he does if he ever has to talk to someone who is familiar with both Peter and Spider-man.

 

“My friend at the Bugle told me you needed my help. I’m going to need an explanation, and as much information as you can give me about your friend’s location and the abilities each of them has, so I know what we’re going into.”

 

“The guy who took them is named Stewart Ward,” Eddie tells them. 

 

“The senator?” Peter asks, frowning. “Isn’t he sick, or something?”

 

“Or something,” Eddie answers. “He has an alien infection. He created a sonic wave to detach my alien symbiote from me, to capture him. He wants to study my symbiote to figure out more about his, managed to get him out of me and I’m just  _ me  _ without him-”

 

“Wait,” Peter makes a face. “It was  _ in  _ you? And you want it  _ back? _ ”

 

“Kinky,” Wade tacks on.

 

“We bonded,” Eddie admits, a bit sheepishly. “He’s not so bad. He only eats bad guys now.”   
  


It clicks into place.

 

“That’s why you’re coming to me, and not the Avengers -?”

 

“I figured you would get the whole _second_ _chance_ vibe I’m going for, yeah,” Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets and looks between them. “Most official heroes would hand Venom, that’s their name, over to SHIELD. That _can’t_ happen.”

 

Wade has gone a bit quieter than usual beside him. There’s something solemn about his stance, and Peter can tell he’s thinking about his own past being taken and ‘experimented’ on. Venom is an alien, too, so he can already see the Avengers rationalizing that it doesn’t have the same rights as Wade, or anyone else who has made bad choices before. They would turn Venom into SHIELD, and they would have clear consciences about doing so, for the most part. Even if they did feel bad about it, that wouldn’t stop them from following the law they were bound to.

 

Technically, they’re both ‘official heroes’ now, even if they do the vigilante thing the majority of the time. If the Avengers find out they did this alone, and freed the symbiote rather than turning them in. Despite his better judgement, which tends to take on the voice of Steve Rogers, he knows this is the right thing to do.

 

“We’re going to need to know what he can do,” Peter tells Eddie seriously.

 

Eddie looks hopeful yet uncertain. “So you’ll help?”

 

Wade answers before Peter can.

 

“Does Spidey’s delectable ass distract every random neighbor he passes by like a sexy pendulum?”

 

Peter facepalms, his ears hot. “He means means  _ yes,  _ we’ll help.”

 

“Yeah, I got it,” Eddie snorts. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

 

* * *

 

“I guess we’re rescuing an alien symbiote,” Wade lowers his voice to be even deeper, clearly mocking Peter for disguising his voice. “ _ Batman. _ ”

 

“Shut up,” Peter says, pushing him lightly. He’s noticed he touches Wade more now, since he figured it all out, and while Wade seems to like it, he hasn’t increased his own touch feeliness with Peter, in or out of the suit. He always seems to have a line he won’t cross.

 

He isn’t sure what to make of that. But he figures he has better things to worry about for now.

 

* * *

Wade tracks the senator down to a warehouse in upstate, which has the eerie appearance of a makeshift hospital, with pale tile floors, steel tables, and laboratory equipment everywhere.

 

They each creep in through a tall window, and from there Wade takes the ground while Peter crawls along the ceiling. Hopefully, they won’t run into anyone at all, but if they do, Peter should be able to cover Wade from above. They’ve used this formation before, but not often - the majority of their patrolling had been fairly straight forward petty crime interception.

 

_ Here, little alien, c’mere, come out, come out, wherever you are,  _ Peter thinks, unable to distract himself from the seriousness of the situation by talking.

 

He slinks down a pipe as gingerly as he can, trying to get a better view of a station below where it sounds like something is  _ sizzling.  _

 

“Oh, man, that’s rough,” Wade’s voice sounds from below, catching Peter’s attention, “That might be grosser than me. I really feel for you, but - whoa! Guess the feeling isn’t mutual.”

 

Adrenaline spikes through him, a crash echoing through the warehouse. It sounds like Wade was thrown into one of the tables, glass and metal splaying everywhere noisily. 

 

Peter snatches up the vial he’d about to inspect. It’s about the size of a gallon jug but perfectly round. It’s filled with something viscous and black that never stops moving, forming peaks that bat itself against the glass desperately. That sounds like what Eddie had described venom to be, and there isn’t a lot of time to double check. He swings closer to where Wade is and drops from the ceiling behind what he figures is a very sick man. 

 

He’s a large figure, tall and slim and parts of his dress slacks and button down shirt are still visible. The majority of him is covered in a fleshy pink mucus, dripping from him and pooling on the ground by his feet and steaming off his shoulders. It’s hard to look at.

 

“It’s a good color on you, Senator, ” Peter offers, making the man turn toward him jerkily. He immediately spots the glass in Peter’s hand. Behind him, Wade is creeping closer with a katana.

 

“Fool,” the Senator hisses. “I had it over fire to weaken it, and now you’ve -”

 

The sound of glass shattering fills Peter’s ears,  _ his spidey sense doesn’t even go off,  _ and everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

He can feel himself moving, but he isn’t in control of his body. The footfalls are not his, there’s no air against his face, there’s not even the strain of his muscles carrying him. Everything is dark, but he can also see perfectly, every tree they pass, every star in the sky, every blade of grass under the creature’s feet. He can even see the bottom half of a long tongue that almost-but-not-really feels like it’s coming out of his mouth.

 

{ _ compatible. strong. good, not eddie, but you’ll do for now. better than cage. _ }

 

The voice is deep and raspy, even more so than Wade’s, and it echoes against his skull like it’s coming from within him. Which, Peter remembers a second later, it totally is.

 

_ No,  _ Peter thinks as loudly as he can. It feels like he’s at the bottom of a well.  _ Go back. Wade is back there. We came together. I can’t leave him behind. _

 

{ _ I want eddie}  _ venom says slowly.  {... _ you want him. _ }

 

_ Yes, I’ll bring you to Eddie, but you need to give me my body back. I need to get to Wade, he’s in danger and I’m his partner, we need to - _

 

It’s almost funny, how put-out Venom sounds when he interrupts him.

 

{ _ FINE] _

 

* * *

 

The next instant, Peter is waking up on the ground in the woods. He looks around wildly, trying to orient himself, and is relieved that he can still see the warehouse in the distance. He’s perhaps a mile away, but he can cover that in something like four minutes.

 

He begins sprinting back toward Wade as quickly as he can. Just as he’s approaching the wide, empty parking lot where the warehouse lies, he sees Wade exit through the back door. His heart leaps into his throat when he sees him, and with all his limbs to boot.

 

“Wade -” Peter starts, to catch his attention, slowing down to a jog and then a stop. He can feel Venom ripple beneath his skin, emotions passing through him - confusion, understanding, irritation.

 

{ _ you desire him. you will not say, but it is clear. you think his shoulders and arms are _ -}

 

“Holy crap, what the hell?” Peter clutches his head and hisses, mortified. “Shut up!”

 

{ _ why bother with this? grab him now. right there. so annoying. _ }

 

“No,  _ you _ are!” Peter shoots back, feeling exactly as petulant as that sounds.

 

“Webs!” Wade yells, running over and crouching down in front of him. “Why are you all the way out here? That alien fucker escaped and I got distracted fighting the Pink Panther and I couldn’t find you! I called Captain Crunch, sorry,  _ America  _ and they’re on their way. Figured if Venom wasn’t here, there wasn’t much they could do to him, and  _ you were gone,  _ baby boy. Kirby is knocked out and as secure as I could get him, Iron Man said he’s just a couple minutes out -”

 

{ _ he called them! could be caught, never get back to eddie, i’ll eat his head!} _

 

“You will not! _ ” _ Peter snarls harshly.  _ He’s trustworthy. He came with me to save your ass, didn’t he? If you can be on the down low, meaning not eating anyone, they won’t even know your with me. _

 

“Er, are you talking to yourself? That’s my thing, isn’t it? Whitey says it is, Yellow is trying to fake me out, but I’m pretty sure it’s my thing, so -”

 

Peter can feel the black oozing over his shoulder, and sees a sharp row of teeth out of the corner of his eye as Venom forms a head just beside Peter’s. 

 

“What did I  _ just _ say?” Peter snaps at the symbiote, even as his heartbeat rages in his ears. He really, really hates this. He’s starting to regret ever agreeing to help Eddie, especially since he didn’t see having to carry the thing back to the city so  _ intimately. _ He can’t wait to get this thing out of him.

 

{ _ said he is trustworthy.}  _ Venom answers simply.

 

“Iron man will be here any minute! Go away!” Peter says, a weird cross between chastising and panicky. Venom recedes back within Peter’s suit.

 

The white eyes of Wade’s mask are perfectly round when Peter looks back at him.

 

“O _ ooooooooh.” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry about springing venom on you guys. i'm really excited about this and hope you are too. it's not gonna be a permanent feature of the story but we're gonna have some interesting symbiote times for a bit~
> 
> let me know what you think, i'm anxious to hear from you, as always <3


	13. we try our best even when it's hard

The worst part isn’t that Wade has to lie to the Avengers the first time he ever officially works with them. It’s for Peter, so he could really give no shits about it. They tell them that they received an anonymous tip, someone calling Wade’s burner phone. They don’t know anything about Eddie Brock or the alien that is currently renting Peter’s body.

 

“He’s not even paying rent!” Peter says, only half joking. He seems especially disturbed to have the alien within him, and even though Wade can kind of get that, he hasn’t seen Peter’s mood soured so effectively before. “No, displays of violence and healing don’t count as rent. No, it shouldn’t, are you seriously arguing with me about this?”

 

It’d be kind of funny, if Peter weren’t so distraught about it. He’s fidgeting more than usual, sometimes clasping the back of his neck or arm like he can feel the creature moving beneath his skin. Wade can't say he'd love it either, but Peter seems especially shaken up by the touches, that come without warning and in what must be intimate in a way that is almost incomparable. 

 

The worst part isn’t even that Eddie doesn’t show up to their meeting spot and won’t answer any of their phone calls, much to Venom’s chagrin.

 

The worst part is that Wade doesn’t get to be alone with Peter anymore, not until this is fixed. What a massive bummer.

 

* * *

 

When they get back to the city, Wade is stupid enough to hop on Peter’s back like he’s grown so accustomed to, and Venom takes it as an attack.

 

In an instant, he’s being stared down by a hulking black mass with a terrifying array of sharp white teeth, no trace of Peter in sight. It roars at him so fiercely that Wade is actually inclined to cower, but instead he reaches for his gun. Which is clearly the wrong move.

 

It chases him through a few alleys before he manages to convince him that he means Peter no harm. It grumbles and recedes until Peter slumps forth and Wade catches him, scooping him up and into his arms, against his chest securely.

 

“I got you, baby boy,” he whispers, not sure exactly how this works or how much it takes out of Peter to be taken over by the symbiote. He’s definitely prepared to carry Peter home, if necessary, and maybe even if it isn’t. This is nice.

 

Peter rouses lifts his chin, taking in where he is. He touches Wade’s chest as if figuring out just what he’s cradled against. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat that’s almost, if Wade didn’t know better, he might think it was -

 

“Oh my god, shut _up,_ Venom _._ ” Peter hisses. “Sorry, Wade. Eddie did say he’s protective - _shut up I said!_ ”

 

* * *

 

When they get back to Peter’s place per their usual web slinging mode of transportation, Wade offers to take the symbiote on himself. Although Venom is reluctant to leave the sanctity of Peter’s body ( _who wouldn’t be?_ The boxes collectively agree _)_ , they convince him to give it a shot by explaining that Wade can’t die. Venom seems intrigued enough to be swayed.

 

Unfortunately, a combination of his healing factor and the cancer means that his body is actively fighting to get Venom out of his system.

 

“It’s fine, Wade, we tried,” Peter sighs, falling back on his bed. The mattress springs creak and Wade makes a mental note to get him a new one soon. That can’t be helping him sleep, and he gets so little of that as it is.

 

“Did you want to patrol?”

 

“No,” Peter says, slumping. “Venom will probably eat someone. No, I do not trust you, you literally tried to eat Wade’s head on the way over here! Why should I believe that? Psh.”

 

“So weird to hear someone else talking to themselves! At least yours isn’t probably just figments of your terrible imagination. Yeah, Whitey, like you’re any better,” Wade sits on the couch and pats the space next to him invitingly, intent on cheering Peter up. “Well, Venom, I hope you like A Series of Unfortunate Events, because we’re in the middle of a season and even though you’re a guest, you do not get to pick what we’re watching.”

 

* * *

 

“ _kill count olaf. eat him whole._ ” Venom asserts after the first episode they watch together.

 

“Sweet as you are, he doesn’t exist,” Peter mutters, starting to lighten up. “Stop talking, we’re trying to watch this - and yes, that means thinking at me, too.”

 

Venom grumbles, but seems to hush.

 

Wade tries not to be too pleased about the fact Peter is never bothered by his mid-show blabbering. Then again, Wade isn’t an intruder. It’s probably more to do with that.

 

* * *

 

Tony Stark sends an Iron Man suit to Peter’s apartment the next morning. He knocks on their window and hovers there with his arms crossed.

 

“Senator says he stole an alien symbiote called Venom from a dude named Eddie Brock,” Tony’s voice says to them, thanks to a strong wifi connection. “Then that you two showed up and stole Venom from _him_. Not that I wanted to believe him. Wouldn’t you have said something to me back at the warehouse? Bah humbug, I told him, but here I am, just to make _absolutely_ sure.”

 

Wade hasn’t ever been caught in a lie by Iron Man before. He’s not exactly sure where to start. In the past, if he was caught in a lie, he would just pull a gun or something.

 

“Listen -” Peter begins, which is enough to make Stark get the jist.

 

“ _Why_ would you keep that from us?” Stark groans. “From me, at least? If Venom escaped, he’s highly dangerous -”

 

“He didn’t escape,” Peter says, startling him. “I’m handling it. Eddie didn’t want you or the rest of the Avengers involved because SHIELD is going to want Venom for themselves. They’ve already got a history of being experimented on. They ...aren’t bad.”

 

He cringes a little, like he doesn’t totally want to admit that.

 

“If it helps for you to know,” Wade offers, palms open. “It wanted to eat me at first, so you might be happy with their judgement.”

 

“ _They_ ,” Tony repeats, dubiously.

 

“No gender,” Peter clarifies with a sigh. “ _Listen_ , you’ve got to trust me on this one. If Venom tries to eat anyone, you have my permission to sick the Avengers on me.”

 

“I don’t like this,” Stark tells him. “If anyone asks, this conversation never happened. I don’t know _anything_. That said, I’m trying to get a lock on Eddie Brock anyway and let you know what I find.”

 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter says earnestly.

 

“I told you to stop doing everything alone,” Stark says, frustration clear in his voice. “Didn’t think that would mean you started doing everything with _him,_ but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

 

As he flies away, Wade falls back onto the couch dramatically.

 

“ _Man_ , and he was _just_ starting to like me.”

 

Peter seems a little too amused by that, like he doesn’t agree, so Wade throws a pillow at him.

 

* * *

 

No sign of Eddie for another twenty-four hours. Neither Wade nor Stark are having any luck, which must mean that he’s in the clutches of someone with the power to disappear people pretty officially.

 

Venom is worried. It’s weird to see that so clearly, but that’s definitely concern for his previous human host showing whenever Wade gives him updates. This time, upon hearing that it'll be days until he's reunited with Eddie, he rushes out of Peter's body, snarling with distaste and insisting they turn over the streets.

 

“You know I hate that!” Peter snaps, shaking his arms, until Venom retreats, his breath coming out shorter and faster. “You agreed not to come out, didn’t you? You forgot, _okay,_ well, _please don’t._ I know you're not happy about this, but neither am I! When you do that, I can feel you everywhere, and it’s just - it’s not cool, okay?”

 

“Alright there, Webs?” Wade settles his hand heavily on the back of his neck, hoping to ground him. His heartbeat is going fast and his breaths are shorter than usual.

 

“Yeah, they just -” Peter draws in a shaky breath, "They don't mean to, but they just...don't get it. But whatever, it's fine. Just for a few more days, tops."

 

* * *

 

“This _suuucks_.” Peter crosses his arms and slouches in his seat. “Venom keeps saying they’re not going to eat anyone, but I don’t feel good about going to class, or even seeing Aunt May like this. And forget about patrolling. Not that I think Venom would mean to, but if something sets him off? I’m in danger a lot, and he’ll go nuts if someone even pulls a gun. I’m not chancing it.”

 

Wade gets Venom more than Peter does. He’s gone a little nuts the few times people have pulled a gun on Spider-man in his presence, and he gets angry just thinking about all the close calls that have happened before they started patrolling together.

 

“At least you get to spend more time with me?” Wade offers, grinning widely and enjoying the pink that spreads up Peter’s neck for a moment longer than he knows he should.

 

“Yeah, but,” Peter mumbles. “It’s not the same with them here.”

 

Peter pauses, and scowls. “No, _you’re_ rude.”

 

Wade chuckles and ruffles his hair, then accidently lingers, stroking his fingers through it a little more gently. He tries not to think too hard about the way Peter leans into it and sighs.

 

“Your teachers will let you make up anything you miss, right?” Wade asks.

 

“Yeah, they’re being cool about it, since they think I’m sick. Which I guess I am - _yeah, you heard me_ ,” Peter says, the edge to his voice leaking out of him as his head falls further back into Wade’s kneading fingers. “At least next week is Spring Break. Won’t miss too much.”

 

“I’m sure they miss you more than you miss them,” Wade tells him cheerfully, trying not to get too giddy ( _or turned on_ , even if the boxes are having a fucking field day) at how Peter melts when he digs his thumb in just below his ear, working the stress out.

 

* * *

 

“ _we are_ _hungry._ ”

 

The voice wakes Wade up instantly. He was only half sleeping anyway, staying up late trying to track down Eddie Brock. He’s pretty sure he was taken in by SHIELD, which creates something of a conflict of interest. The good news is he can’t find any reason for them to hold onto Brock without Venom inside him, so he should be released soon, possibly even tomorrow.

 

The bad news is, SHIELD might be waiting for him to go find Venom, meaning that they could be waiting to see who he meets up with. They’ll have to be careful if they don’t want their hero status revoked. Every day the city is getting tougher on vigilantism, and it’ll only make life harder for them if they have to go back to that. Peter doesn’t need the added stress, and neither does May.

 

" _we. are. hungry_."

 

He's said this before, it's one of his more common phrases, but this time it sounds slightly different. 'Hungry' reads more like 'angry'.

 

"You know where the snacks are, we've gone over this."

 

“ _must eat someone._ ”

 

“No, no, nope, no,” Wade says quickly, holding up his hands. “Peter hates murder, so you’re going to have to settle for ground beef or something, Big Noir.”

 

“ _he won’t mind this one._ ”

 

Wade huffs, sitting up to face him, taking it a little more seriously now. “ _Pretty_ sure he will.”

 

“ _he won’t. we must eat him. he is evil. eddie will approve.”_

 

“Dude,” Wade gripes, trying to avoid raising his voice.  “You aren’t _in_ Eddie. He hates killing in general, like, _period_. I should know, I used to do it all the time, just the bad guys too, so I’d be right there with you if it weren’t for this Petey-pie you’re currently being hosted by. You don’t even know him that well, who could you possibly think he’d be okay with you killing?”

 

“ _the one who makes him hate me._ ”

 

Wade blinks, then narrows his eyes sharply. “What. You’re not making any sense, Inky.”

 

“... _he cannot stand my touch.”_

 

“I noticed,” Wade deadpans, “As much as I get wanting Peter to like you, you did kind of take him over without his consent, so that’s your own fault.”

 

“ _not my fault. cannot help it. need him.”_ The deep voice is frustrated and laced with sulkiness. Leave it to Peter to make an alien symbiote who eats people want to be his friend.

 

“Even if you can’t help it, pretty sure it’s still your fault.”

 

“ _no, not my fault, the_ other _one_.”

 

Wade’s eyes narrow. If he had hair on his arms or the back of his neck, he thinks they might be standing up at the way Venom’s voice is dripping with disdain.

 

_“his mind remembers another touch, when peter was small, smaller, someone bad, from long ago, eddie told us what it is, what it means, what only scum will do, we could track him down -”_

 

Wade wants to throw up, abruptly. He sees red and his hands curl into fists, and in that instant he wants nothing more than to go along with what Venom is suggesting.

 

_“then peter would not mind so much, would feel safer with me until we find eddie”_

 

His boxes are shouting and snarling now, telling him that Venom is right. Peter wouldn’t even have to know that he helped, Venom would do it in his sleep, he wouldn’t have to remember anything. They could rip the despicable lump of shit ( _actually that might be unfair to shit)_ out of whatever hole he’d dug himself, because if he even has a scrap of happiness in this world it’s _far_ too much.

 

Venom has risen farther up out of Peter’s body, practically buzzing with rage and anticipation.

 

“ _you agree with me. you want him dead too. his name is -_ ”

 

“No!” Wade yells, rough and louder than intended, very close to covering his ears. Peter jolts upright in his bed, confusion and worry, blinking rapidly.

 

“Wade?” Peter rasps, voice groggy and perfect.

 

He looks smaller than usual, even though Wade is certain that’s his own perception. He can still feel the urge to murder whoever had _fucking dared_ pumping through him.

 

“Was it another nightmare? Do you need -?”

 

“Yeah, just a nightmare, I’m alright though,” Wade tells him, hoping that Peter will mistake the extra rumble in his voice for tiredness rather than barely concealed rage. “Go back to sleep, it’s all okay. Don’t worry about me.”

 

Peter frowns but falls back to his pillow. “M’kay, if you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure, baby boy, get some rest.”

 

He dozes back off slowly. Presumably Venom can tell when he’s in deep enough sleep for them to continue their hushed discussion, because after a few minutes he emerges again.

 

“ _we go now. eat him. then it’s better_ ”

 

For a long series of seconds, Wade honestly considers it. The boxes agree with venom mostly, but he knows, he _knows_ that Peter will hate this. He hasn’t told him, and even if he had, he wouldn’t want Venom to take over his body just to eat someone. Especially for revenge on his behalf. Even though Wade can’t quite understand it himself, he knows Peter, knows it would be betrayal.

 

Even if it physically hurts, worse than an axe to the chest ( _and he knows what that feels like_ ) to know this and not be able to do what he’d done to a thousand other bastards like him -

 

“He won’t want that, and it isn’t your place to talk to me about it,” Wade mutters, looking at Peter’s sleeping form to calm the bloodlust that is threatening to consume him. It’s like looking at baby animals; it works a little bit, but it also inspires the sort of cute-aggression that makes him want to squeeze something close until it can’t breathe anymore.

 

He has to look away, and Venom rattles from the corner by the bed, defeated and furious. Wade feels a deep kinship with him in that moment. The only thing they’re really good at is killing things, and when that isn’t the answer, they feel as helpless as they did back in the cages they were born in.

 

" _humans are so stupid"_  is the last thing Wade hears from Venom for the night. He doesn’t sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone already guessed that skip is a thing in this fic. he won't be showing up and this is probably the most it will be talked about but i feel like it's important. i hope there was enough cute parts to outweigh the angsty stuff. venom is honestly cute af and even though peter has a right to be upset at them i do feel a little bad, ah well.
> 
> thanks again for all the awesome feedback, lovelies, it's why I'm able to update practically every day/every other day. please let me know your favorite parts and all that jazz~ <3


	14. we are whispers, we are gunshots

It takes some getting used to, but Peter figures that there are worse parasites to have than Venom in his system. Sure, it never shuts up about how Wade makes him feel, but he hasn’t spilled the beans either, so that’s something. He’d never ever forgive them if they took Wade away from him.

 

The first few times it’s thick, dark liquid-like body moves over him without warning, his lungs seize and he _feels like he ten-years-old again, on an orange couch in a room with blue walls_ -

 

But Venom has gotten better about that.

 

Peter doesn’t love that it’s there with him in his mind at all times ( _did they see the room too, did they feel -?)_ but they seem to actively be trying to follow the house rules that Peter has laid down. Peter can feel how hard that is for him, especially the whole ‘no eating people’ thing, which is apparently his default mode of being.

 

By the third day, they’ve established something of a comradery, though it’s mostly over how much they’d love to get out of the apartment. A little bit is a shared reverence for how cool Wade is too, though Venom is less inclined to be open about that.

 

Peter can feel it though. He insists that Wade patrol without him, because he hates being away for more than a day or so because sometimes terrible people bet on him being out of commission. When Wade comes back, he’s full of bullet wounds, but not at all fazed.

 

{... _we can heal like this too._ } Venom insists, but Peter feels an impressed pulse ripple through him, and maybe he likes Venom a little more for seeing it.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Peter asks Wade, nervous to be out of the house. The lack of control he has over Venom is making his anxiety go through the roof, which makes Venom pout.

 

As weird as it is to think of the alien symbiote _pouting,_ that’s the best approximation that Peter can place on it. It’s a childishly morose sensation, or a subtle anger without any bite behind it. Now that he’s getting used to Venom’s moods, they don’t unsettle him as much.

 

Still. The idea that something could happen and people could get hurt because of Peter?

  
Not acceptable.

 

“You gotta let off some steam, baby boy,” Wade tells him confidently, “And get some fresh air. You’re used to being outside more often than not. You’re getting depressed, and that ain’t happening on my watch, not if there’s anything I can do about it. So I rented a car, to minimize the amount of contact you have with anyone. We’re going to outside the city to a shooting range that I have a hookup with. It’s after closing, so we don’t even have to worry about other patrons there that might fuck things up for you and Even-Freakier-Cheshire there, alright?”

 

{ _why not just use my name_ } Venom rumbles, never satisfied with the aliases Wade gives him.

 

Peter ignores Venom. He has to admit, it sounds like a good plan, and he’s so tired of being cooped up in his apartment. Binging Netflix and eating good food and napping is nice and all, but not _all the time._ His overactive brain and body are threatening to vibrate his bones to powder.

 

“Rented a car,” Peter repeats wryly. "That's not code for 'stole' a car, right?"

 

“Plead the fifth.”

 

“ _Wade._ ”

 

“I’m kidding, I’m _kidding._ If anything, they stole from me! My _dignity._ Apparently my driving record is bad enough that they charged me an extra fee and the insurance was fuckin’ nuts! Yeah, I get it, most of the cars I’ve, well, borrowed, have ended up in pieces or in a ditch or covered in my blood. But not this time! I guess they don’t work on the honor system? Or if they did, the start of my good record is only like eight months long -”

 

Peter snickers and buckles his seatbelt, stretching his legs up onto the dashboard with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

Peter has never shot a gun before, and while he doesn’t have a whole lot of interest in them, he figures that it’ll be a good thing to have experience with, just in case. Plus, he knows that Wade is a little bit of an enthusiast, and he’s sure that it _will_ blow off some steam.

 

“You got your Weaver, your Chapman, your Isosceles,” Wade demonstrates each of them with practised ease, elbows bending or locking depending on the stance. “You’re a nerd, so you get that last one, yeah? Alright, as for one handed stances -”

 

Peter tries with him the second go around, and although he isn’t sure he’ll ever feel natural with a weapon like this in his hands, it isn’t as scary as he’d expected it to be.

 

“Not that I wouldn’t love to get up behind you like a dude in a romcom teaching a girl to golf for some contrived reason,” Wade begins. “But I think you’re a pretty quick learner, and I’m not entirely convinced that Venom won’t bite me if I try it.”

Peter grins. “I think I’ve got it.”

 

“Alright, let’s try to shoot, but first, let’s protect those sensitive ears, Bitsy. We might need to double up on protection actually, which is not something I would _ever_ say usually! Just breakin’ all my rules for you, baby boy, you should feel super special.”

 

{ _you do_ } Venom informs him quietly, as if Peter isn’t already well aware.

 

* * *

 

{ _he wants you too. he watches you move. his eyes dilate._ }

 

Peter feels hot all over at the revelation. He frowns at the smugness that radiates through him, all of which belongs to Venom.

 

 _Maybe_ , he assents, glancing back over his shoulder at where Wade is currently in a shooting station, in his full Deadpool suit, except for the mask. Peter thinks he might be whistling, but he has earplugs _and_ noise canceling headphones on to make sure his hypersensitive hearing isn’t stressed by the gunshots.

 

{ _not maybe. certain. he has to stop himself from touching you more. see his hands twitch toward you, see you take any excuse to touch him back, you want -_ }

 

 _Yeah, well, I’m trying to get around to it, but I kind of have a chaperone I didn’t ask for right now!_ Peter snaps at him, breathing out sharply enough that he catches Wade’s attention.

 

Venom sulks more and Peter feels a little guilty.

 

 _It’s fine. I wasn’t really ready to tell him yet anyway._ Peter admits, sliding back into his stance. _You can see why for yourself, I’m sure you already have._

 

{ _fear_ } Venom answers, too simply. { _you run into danger each night, yet in this case you let it rule you, let it deprive you of_ -}

 

Peter interrupts him with a gunshot, then another, scowling through the embarrassed flush. He cannot believe a symbiote is lecturing him about feelings, but he especially can’t believe he’s _right._

 

* * *

 

Wade doesn’t tap him on the shoulder or anything to get his attention. He waits patiently for Peter to be done shooting and to lower the headphones, plucking the plugs out too.

 

“How you feelin’, Webs?”

 

“Good,” he says honestly. “Not what I would have picked for a night out, but I’m not nearly as stressed as when I walked in, so I think it’s a success.”

 

“I could suggest a few other stress relieving techniques,” Wade tells him, wiggling his fingers a way that hints at something way too graphic. Peter’s face goes hot immediately and Wade’s does a moment later, squeaking. “C’mon, I meant a _massage!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“Wow, you’re kind of a terrible shot, baby boy,” Wade tells him, holding up the target before him. Peter crosses his arms, scoffing at the clearly erratic holes. Wade’s totally shown off, holding up his own target with only heart, head, and throat shots.

 

“I wasn’t aiming to kill, obviously,” Peter snarks. “I meant to hit outside the outline. You know, warning shots."

 

“Yeah, I can _see_ that, Webs,” Wade snarks right back, smiling widely. “You mean the groin shot too then?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Ha! Remind me not to ever let you have a gun outside of this place.”

 

“Don’t need one,” Peter says, shoving Wade playfully. “Luckily I have an expert marksman as a partner, so I don’t think it’ll come up.”

 

Wade doesn’t even try to hide how he’s preening.

 

* * *

 

Tony calls just as they’re leaving the shooting range.

 

“Brock has had a rough couple days,” He states first. “SHIELD had him for interrogation for forty-eight hours, and then yesterday he’s finally released and someone tries to shoot at him pretty much immediately.”

 

Venom growls loudly enough to shake the whole car.

 

“ _Wow_ ,” Wade and Tony say at the same time, just with different inflections. Wade seems more genuinely impressed, while Tony seems reluctantly cowed. Then again, he doesn’t know that Venom isn’t quite as scary as he looks (well, most of the time).

 

{ _where_ } Venom demands.

 

“Where is he?” Peter asks, trying to sound casual if only to settle the desperation he can feel growing within him, courtesy of his alien companion.

 

“He’s here with us, at the tower -”

 

Venom roars, and Wade swerves a little bit, looking Peter over as he tenses up. 

 

“Listen, Chompers, they don’t know anything about you, alright? He’s in our custody for protection right now. The guys shooting at him were part of a trafficking ring called Araneae, apparently retaliating for a piece he did on them a few months back, following a pretty gruesome attack on their customer base. Actually, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Wilson?”

 

“Oh, hey! Referencing back to the first paragraph!” Wade points out cheerfully.

 

“I’m going to ignore whatever that was, but I’ll take that as confirmation. ” Tony mutters. “ _I will not question Pete’s judgement, I will not question Pete’s judgement._..How fast can you guys get here? I think Nat knows more than she’s letting on, but I can never get a good read on her.”

 

{ _give permission. i am faster than car_ } Venom suggests, or begs, Peter can’t really tell which.

 

 _No way_ , Peter refuses, but pulls his mask out of his pocket. _You know how conspicuous you are._

 

“Give us an hour,” Peter tells him, over the sound of Venom’s disappointment in his head.

 

* * *

 

Wade parks the rental by the company building in Washington square so they can return it easily the next morning, or whenever all of this is over with. They don’t want it to be parked too close to either of their apartments, lest it be traced back to them, especially considering the speed at which new threats seem to be popping up.

 

They make it about halfway before Peter’s spidey sense goes off and he puts on the breaks, landing on a low rooftop nearby and setting Wade down.

 

The sound of shrieking tires is a little maddening after all that time with the headphones on, but it isn’t enough to distract him. He bends his knees, ready to run or dodge, and notices the gun hanging out the window a moment before shots ring out in the night.

 

{ _let me_ -}

 

He tackles Wade to the surface of the roof fast enough that they miss them completely. He’s relieved when he hears them hit something solid, probably a brick wall, nearby. His first thought is that the strays could go through a window and hit a random citizen, but they’ve been lucky so far.

 

A second after Wade hits the ground, he’s gripping Peter by the hips and spinning them, covering him for several long seconds to make sure the firing has stopped.

 

“They weren’t using any of the stances,” Peter jokes breathlessly. Oh man, Wade is warm and close and that’s not at all where his mind should be right now.

 

Wade snorts. “Don’t think they’re as studious as you are. Most people aren’t, let alone criminals.”

 

“Araneae?” Peter considers, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He can hear his heartbeat, and not in the calming way he’d been able to while deafened at the gun range. It doesn’t help that Wade’s body is caging him still; his hands aren’t on his hips anymore, they’re on either side of Peter’s head, but he can feel the warmth from where they’d been seconds before. “I guess they figured while they’re in town they’ll tie up a few loose ends.”

“Not happening, baby boy,” Wade growls, and Peter knows things must be serious, because Venom doesn’t even give him a hard time about how the rumble of Wade’s voice makes him feel.

 

* * *

 

They follow the car carefully, already sure they’re being followed by more than the one they’d seen before. From what Wade had told him, the organization is expansive, and after what Wade had done to them last year, he doubts they’re cutting any corners where either of them are concerned.

 

{ _permission_ } Venom insists, voice growing progressively more difficult to ignore. { _too_ _dangerous_.}

 

Peter refuses again, creeping along the wall in the shadows. Wade isn’t far behind him, sneaking close to the ground not unlike their formation in the warehouse. It really is an unlucky week.

 

His spidey sense flares, and Peter moves just before a bullet embeds itself in the wall by his head.

 

“Fuck, a sniper,” Wade hisses under his breath.

 

{ _permission_ } Venom says again, louder. Peter wishes he’d shut up, because it’s just another distraction, there are already so many, and his brain is getting overwhelmed -

 

_BANG._

 

They get Wade in the head.

 

Peter watches him goes down, hears the sickening thud, and even though he knows it’s not for good ( _he knows for sure this time but)_ outrage soars through him, vibrant enough that his vision starts to go dark.

 

For an instant, he isn’t entirely sure if it’s from the intensity of his emotions or because of -

 

“I said _no!_ ” Peter yells as he feels Venom beginning to rise out of him from his shoulder blades, as more enforcers begin to turn the corner.

 

There are too many of them to be safe for the area, and Peter is all alone now.

 

If more bullets go flying -

 

Not if, he reminds himself. He wants to get to Wade’s body, get him somewhere safe, because if they know, if they think to shoot him again, Peter will be without an ally for even longer.

 

As if this weren’t enough, Tony calls, his tone echoing within his suit.

 

Before Peter can answer, his spidey sense flares again, again, _again,_ as half a dozen bullets rain on him from multiple directions. He’s fast enough to dodge them, but only barely, and it doesn’t help that his sixth sense hasn’t stopped, hasn’t let him recover for one moment.

 

He hasn’t stopped for a moment to catch his breath, which is why the burning sensation in his shoulder is such a surprise.

 

“ _Owwww,_ ” Peter hisses, and he doesn’t even get a chance to grab his arm to figure out how badly he’s been wounded before he has to move to avoid a knife-wielding assailant.

 

“Guess I took your gun, huh? I’d say I’m sorry about it, but -” Peter webs up into the air only briefly, an assisted leap over the approaching man and right into another, with a gun raised. “Wow, yeah, now I’m _really_ not sorry!”

 

He casts another web and manages to avoid the shot, flipping less elegantly than he’d like and huffing out a sharp sound as he rolls, injured shoulder hitting the curb.

 

Just in time to see the same coming toward him, Peter twists over and tries to get off the ground.

 

From the corner of his eye, he sees a figure in red dressed tackle the man, hears him punches him out, and then leap onto a second, giving Peter a second to breathe. He only has moments to take stock, and even though Peter wasn’t expecting Wade back up and running so quickly, he doesn’t think to question. He’s too busy moving out of the way of another shot, trying to stay close to the ground now to avoid strays getting too close to apartment buildings.

 

He ducks behind cars, shooting webs with his good arm at the gunmen, managing to disarm a few of them and incapacitate a few others. At least Venom has been letting him concentrate-

 

 _{permission}_ Venom says, on cue. Before Peter can object again, he adds. { _just healing. shoulder._ }

 

He has to admit that’s handy. He agrees quietly, and feels the pain fades.

 

“C’mon, you really needed to send a whole army to take out little old me?” Peter asks to distract the gunless one he’s currently fighting off. It works, and soon the man is hanging from a fire escape.

 

He can hear other men being taken out somewhere behind him, and thankfully it doesn’t look like there are more coming out of the woodwork just yet. He catches his breath, but is still hyper-aware of the sniper that he still hasn’t been pinpointed yet. He doesn’t think they’ve tried to get him in the last several seconds, so maybe they fled, seeing that the mission was going south -?

 

That’s when he sees Wade, still a lump on the ground right where he’d fallen.

 

{ _not wade_ } Venom confirms, thrumming impatiently. { _threat_.}

 

 _Chill_ , Peter soothes, as soon as he recognizes the silhouette fighting off the last of his assailants. _He isn’t a threat, he’s a friend._

 

Venom searches and finds a memory of their one previous interaction, an exchanged business card.

 

{ _devil_ } Venom grumbles appraisingly, as Peter sets off in Wade’s direction.

 

 _That’s right, we’re in his territory. We’re lucky he showed when he -_ Once more, his spidey sense spikes viciously, two times in quick succession. He flinches out of the way, but it happens again an instant later too, which is _clever_ and more than a little unfortunate for Peter.

 

He’s in mid-air with no way to change direction.

 

To their credit, Peter really can feel Venom trying to ask first, but there’s really no choice now. Peter is engulfed by black at the same time bullet enters him.

 

Funnily enough, the last thing he hears is the first notes of Tony’s ringtone, calling him yet again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more action than i intended on writing but that's just how things be sometimes. peter's fine, i promise. venom got this.
> 
> so matt cameos! and eddie is okay! venom and peter get along a little better now! also, long chapter! gimme loves? <3


	15. we struggle to surrender to ourselves

Wade wakes up to Venom’s roar rattling the entire street. Car alarms go off, nearby car windows and headlights shatter, someone screams from an apartment nearby.

 

[ _ That’s not good. _ ]

 

[[ _Or is it awesome?_ ]]

 

Luckily, gunshot wounds are one of the quicker deaths to recover from, even if it’s in the head. It hadn’t exploded out the back of his head, so that made it even easier to recover from. He peels himself off the ground and spots Venom quickly - it’s hard not to, considering how massive he is, how loud and furious. He’s looking all over like a cat looking for a red dot, which...isn’t actually a bad analogy, since Wade figures he’s trying to find the Sniper’s origin.

 

They seems to get a lock on it, since they begins to run hard in one direction, tearing the ground up beneath them in their wake. Then the wall of a nearby building at speed, and damn, is Wade glad he’s not on the receiving end of a face like that. 

 

Wade catches sight of another figure, approaching him cautiously but seemingly without ill intent.

 

“Hey, I know you,” Wade declares, then amends. “Well,  _ of _ you.”

 

“That thing is a friend of yours?” Daredevil asks, knocking out another henchman that’s woken up in the meantime. He was only trying to run away, considering how fuckin’ terrifying their alien associate is, but Wade doesn’t blame him. These fuckers can all rot in prison. Good riddance.

 

“He isn’t as nasty as he looks,” Wade tells him, shrugging. “How long has he been like this?”

 

“Less than a minute,” Daredevil answers.  “...Spider-man is  _ in _ there. That’s not a usual thing, is it?”

 

“Nah, short-term lease,” Wade says, relishing in the sound of a shriek from high above, one that can only be from being pursued by a creature like Venom. “I think they gottem!”

 

“Sure sounds like it,” Daredevil agrees, clutching his side with a low, pained sound.

 

“Ouch,” Wade hisses sympathetically. “No healing factor either, bad break, my horny friend.”

 

Daredevil frowns. “How can you be sure?”

 

“Did recon on you,” Wade says, starting to scale the wall. “In case I had to kill you someday. I’d apologize, but you’ve done the same for me, Stevie Wonder.”

 

“...Heh.”

 

“Thanks for lookin’ out for my boy! Say ‘how you  _ doin’ _ to Claire for me, will you?” Wade shouts down at him without looking back.

 

* * *

  
  


He finds two bodies on the roof. Peter’s, bloody and unconscious but mostly unharmed. The second is an old man, the sniper presumably, also covered in blood but not at all unharmed. He’s missing both arms at the shoulders, reminding Wade of the day with the Goblin King. He’d been a little reckless then, too eager to show off in front of the Avengers, but this seemed more

 

“ _ no more sniping for him _ ” Venom tells Wade without exiting Peter’s form. 

 

Wade laughs hard. At least he can honestly say Venom didn’t kill anyone while in Peter’s body (so far), but he doubts Peter will find it funny. He tears makeshift tourniquets out of strips of leather until the medics get there, so that the guy doesn’t bleed out. 

 

“ _ careful. still healing.”  _ Venom warns, so he picks up Peter with even more care than usual, then calls Tony to retrieve the not-quite dead guy. 

 

The street is quiet as he waits, save for the sirens in the distance.

 

* * *

 

They arrive safely at the tower. Venom has been behaving, quiet and secret, like they discussed. Wade is sure he’s excited to see Eddie again after all this time, and he’s proud of the big fella, even if he can’t express it among all the superheroes and cameras in the tower.

 

He deposits Peter in the bed carefully, not sure if Venom is finished yet. He thinks his healing factor is even more dope than his own, but he isn’t about to risk it. When they ask why Peter is out, it’s not like he can say ‘exertion of being taken over and healed from a potentially life threatening wound by a symbiote who is currently inhabiting his body’. So he tells them he thinks he hit his head, but that he was dead at the time, so he’s not entirely sure.

 

“Looks like if there was head trauma, it already healed,” Banner says quietly, looking at Wade with unspoken suspicion. He slips Peter’s mask back on; Peter will have to forgive Wade for that part, but it’s not like Banner is going to tell anyone. “No concussion...nothing.”

 

“I am just like, so happy hear that, doc,” Wade says, and that’s not that much of a lie. He is relieved that Peter is okay, because when he realized the bullet was entering his head, realized he was leaving Pete alone against a who-knows-how-many bad guys, he about had a heart attack.

 

Tony and Natasha enter the room then, saving Wade from the Hulk’s just-as-scary counterpart.

 

“These are the people who put the hit out on him,” Tony states, not even close to being a question, but Wade nods in affirmation anyway.

 

“Clint and I have been following up on your little spree,” Black Widow says pointedly. “We’ve taken down quite a bit of them, even though that attack made them increase security.”

 

“If it helps, they’re like, the last people I’ve killed, ever?” His voice is higher pitched than absolutely necessary, but what’s a guy to do? He’s surrounded by hot, scary people who hate him.

 

“Does he usually heal this fast?” Banner asks quietly, rubbing his neck with one hand and gesturing with the other. “There are bullet holes in his suit.”

 

“Sure,” Wade replies agreeably.

 

“Deadpool -” Black widow begins, voice low and distrustful, but she stops when Peter stirs. They all do, in fact, going still and quiet and waiting for him to come to completely.

 

“...Mhm, sounds like a party,” Peter mumbles groggily. 

 

Wade’s heart flies up into his throat.

 

“Spidey!” He breathes, shoulders slumping, whole body almost concave with relief.

 

“The guy...did I - is he -?” Peter looks at Wade, who raises his hands to calm him down.

 

“I got a little carried away, but he isn’t dead,” Wade admits, looking sheepish. He’s got to take the fall, and he’s sure Banner and Natasha won’t really mind that much. Tony and Peter will know the truth, and Peter’s the only one that matters in the lot of them anyway. “They took him in for questioning and everything, I swear.”

  
  


“Goes by Sniper,” Banner informs him. 

 

“The guy is...literally  _ named  _ Sniper?” Peter asks, amused but weak.

 

“Goes by,” Banner repeats, smiling a little. “Real name is Rich von Burian. After you defeated Kingpin a few years back, he’s been contracted by a few different organizations.”

 

“Pretty sure you can guess the most recent,” Nat says coolly from the corner, arms crossed and feet propped up on one of the desks. Her posture looks lazy, her eyes are anything but.

 

“Yeah,” Peter sighs and falls back to the bed.

 

“We never did find his arms,” Natasha mentions casually, raising her eyebrow at Wade. “Care to explain that at all?”   
  


“They were....obliterated,” Wade explains, still not technically lying.

 

“Obliterated,” Nat deadpans.

 

“Yeah,” Wade agrees, blinking. “What, you want the dirty deets?”

 

Her mouth quirks minutely. “...Guess not.”

 

* * *

 

 

“If it gets caught on my extensive surveillance system,” Tony tells them when Dr. Banner clears him to go home an hour or so later. He doesn’t turn to meet their eyes as he talks. “Then it isn’t a secret anymore.”

 

[ _ Nat knows something is up.] _

 

[[ _ She always knows, but she’s good at secrets. That’s why her hair’s so big. _ ]]

 

The door behind him opens and Eddie Brock is standing there, looking even more sleep deprived than usual. He has his right arm in a sling. The sight of it makes a low growl start up, coming from within Peter, and Wade nudges him to cut it out.

 

Peter glances at Eddie, and Eddie back at Peter. 

 

They’re both itching for the same thing, but they have to wait a little while longer. Wade is going to miss Venom a little bit, but more so, he’s excited to get quality time with Peter again. Not to mention the knowledge that he won’t mention, which he hopes will leave along with the symbiote.

 

“C’mon, boys!” Wade says loudly, putting hands on both of their backs and leading them to the elevator. “I know we need to reminisce but it can wait until we’re a few blocks over -”

 

“Further!” Tony snaps at them just before his electronic doors close, with about the same inflection.

 

* * *

 

In a a dark, deserted alleyway a mile or so away from Stark’s tower, Peter and Eddie shake hands. The dark mass crawls from one arm to the other, all it’s little black tendrils curling around Eddie like the weirdest hug ever, as though clutching him for dear life, before they sink out of sight.

 

Eddie’s eyes darken instantly, flickering to Peter, then over to Wade’s meaningfully.

 

“You got time for a bite?” Peter asks, playful and friendly, though Wade is sure he isn’t really up for more socialization after the day they’d just had.

 

“We have one more appointment before we leave New York,” Eddie rubs his stubbly face, looking tired, but really, more furious than tired.

 

“Let us know when you’re back in town,” Peter tells him, oblivious to the quiet conversation Wade is privy to. That’s for the best. He isn’t mad about it. Well, maybe just a little, but not righteously. Directed at Venom, a little lower, he adds, “See you around, buddy.”

 

The bastard deserves to die, it just can’t be him that does it, for Peter’s sake.

 

[[[ _ Shame.]]] _

 

Both boxes agree with a ferocity that actually hurts. Or is that his own frustration that he can’t be part of it? Ah, well. He made a promise, and he’s probably better for it, even if it’s hard.

 

“ _ Invite us to the wedding. _ ” Venom and Eddie’s voice join together for the statement, amused.

 

“What wedding?” Wade asks, but they’ve begun to scale up the alley wall. He sees Venom’s form sprinting up the side of a nearby skyscraper and then bounding off into the distance.

 

“Steve and Bucky’s?” Peter suggests, though he doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

 

“What!? I want to be a groomsman!” Wade tells the sky loudly, then he turns to Peter. “Do you think he’d let me? Obviously, Black Widow will be the best woman but I should still be able to get in there, right? Can you imagine?”

 

“...You’d look good in a tux,” is all Peter says, fidgeting more than the moment seems to suggest he should be. “C’mon, let’s go home, Wade.”

 

* * *

 

They reach Wade’s apartment and everything seems to slow down. Peter looks sluggish as he pulls off his mask, mumbling about changing into something comfortable before disappearing into Wade’s bedroom. Wade busies himself in the kitchen, checking to make sure that he has all the ingredients for pancakes that he is intent on making.

 

Everything checks out, even the blueberries and whip cream. His lucky night.

 

Peter is safe,  _ check _ . Venom is gone,  _ check _ . The Avengers didn’t find out they lied (well, sorta),  _ check _ . 

 

And Wade only died one time! Just a quick bullet to the brain, practically nothing, almost a fun one, if he’s being honest. Definitely his go-to suicide, back before Peter told him doing that wasn’t healthy and somehow made  _ him  _ sad.

 

The terrible creak of his bedroom door signals that Peter is done, so he spins toward him, ready to announce his meal plan, when he  _ sees  _ him.

 

Peter is wearing the sweater that  _ he  _ bought for  _ Wade  _ for Christmas, and if he’s wearing briefs under them, Wade can’t see them for how far the crimson knitting comes down on his thighs. Which is both not far enough and too far, holy  _ shit _ , it’s a cuteness overload. Wade is pretty sure steam could come out of his ears, if that were in the physics of this particular universe.

 

[ _ If we were an anime character, we’d die of blood loss. _ ]

 

[[ _ We may do that anyway. Should we stab ourselves to restart? I think we’re short-circuiting. _ ]]

 

“Hey, Wade,” Peter says softly.

 

“...Hey, Bitsy,” Wade answers thickly, stuck in place.

 

“Hey,” Peter says again, then draws in a shaky breath. He steps forward slowly, looking up to meet Wade’s eyes. “They... weren’t talking about Steve and Bucky.”

 

His boxes start freaking out immediately, and it’s difficult to hear anything over the sounds of their lewd descriptions, whistling, and suggestions on how to gouge out his eyes so as not to further mentally defile Peter, at least for a while.

 

“Hnuh?” Wade gapes, having a hard time looking at anything but the single bare shoulder or the length of his leg or his bare legs or his tousled hair or the faint blush in the dim lighting -

 

“It was pretty rude of them, actually,” Peter tells him, brow furrowing just, just  _ perfectly.  _ God, now he looks a little grumpy? But just a little bit? Does someone want Wade dead? Stupid question, of course they do. “They were making a joke about my feelings for you, even though I  _ told _ Venom I wanted to do this myself, the right way. Kind of a dick move, but I guess I get it.”

 

“Your...feelings.” Wade repeats, only half coherent as Peter takes another step forward.

 

“Yeah,” Peter affirms, close enough now that he reaches out to slip his hand into Wade’s. "For you."

 

It’s not like they’ve never held hands before, but it’s always to tug the other along, it’s always just practical contact, friendly at best, and it is  _ kinda the best,  _ but it’s never like  _ this.  _ Peter rubs over the scarred flesh on the back of his hand with his thumb, like his touch doesn’t gross him out at all.

 

“...Yeah?” Wade repeats, the word garbled, his tongue refusing to work correctly.

 

“Yeah,” Peter admits, biting his lip. Wade wants to bite it too. “I wasn’t going to do this tonight. It’s been a long few days, and we’re both tired, and - I don’t know what happened. We’re alone, and I saw this sweater on the bed and then you were  _ looking  _ at me like that, and I guess I -”

 

He smiles up at him so sweetly Wade wants to die, or - maybe he wants to never die. Guess it’s really his lucky day. He should probably breathe if he wants to enjoy it for longer than a minute.

 

“I guess couldn’t help myself.”

 

He shrugs, his expression coy enough that Wade wants to kiss off of his perfect face. Peter’s other hand comes up to touch Wade’s cheek and it’s so, so soft. He sucks in a deep, sharp, tremulous breath and ducks his head, hunching over until his head is resting on Peter’s shoulders.

 

“Fuck, baby boy,  _ you  _ can’t help yourself?” Wade chokes out. “I’ve been... _ I’ve been - _ ”

 

“S’okay,” Peter mumbles into Wade’s neck. “You don’t have to anymore. I’m here, and I...really, really like you. Like, so much.”

 

“Oh, my _god_ ,” Wade breathes out and then raises his hands, which are more quivery than he would have prefered. He wants to ask ‘are you  _ sure _ ?’ or say ‘ but I’m fucked, I’m broken, you could do better, you could do better if you threw a rock into Time Square’ but he knows that this isn’t time for his self-deprecating shtick, so what comes out is, “Can I...hold you?”

 

“Please,” Peter nods against his neck and a moment later Wade is wrapping his arms around him completely, pulling Peter against his chest and curling over him. 

 

“I ...can keep you?” Wade confirms, barely stopping himself from biting into the bulb of his shoulder to make sure he’s real, not just a desperate fantasy or dream or hallucination, that he’s flesh and bone ( _ he’s pretty sure anyway, but how can this be for him?). _

 

“Yeahahaha,” Peter answers, laughing a musical little laugh as Wade squeezes him and picks him up off his feet. He falls back onto his sofa, which is even more worn and creaky than Peter’s. “But to be clear, I wasn’t, um,  _ proposing _ .”

 

Wade sputters. “What? Huh? No, of course not -”   
  


“Bit too soon for that,” Peter says with a smile in his voice, and plants a small kiss on the corner of Wade’s mouth, a curious and questioning glint to his eye.

 

_ Guh.  _ Wade can’t even handle thinking about the implications of that right now.

 

“...I was gonna make pancakes,” Wade says slowly. “In celebration of the whole Venom thing. But, I can’t make pancakes with you on my lap, so I’m ... _ very _ torn.”

 

“Don’t want to get up, so I guess it’ll have to be delivery,” Peter decides sagely, without delay, and Wade dies all over again, but better.

 

Wade cradles Peter’s face in his hands and pulls him in for a deep and soft, lingering kiss. He feels so warm all over, and the boxes, satisfied for now and a little bit cowed with disbelief, are blissfully quiet. There are no voices to break the gentle, heated continuity of their kiss.

 

He breaks away with a groan that is somehow even more frustration than arousal.

 

“My stupid fuckin’ phone is in the kitchen.”

 

“...Mine is with my suit in the bedroom.”

 

“Fuuuuuuuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~<3


	16. we trust each other to give our all

After an hour or more of refusing to get out of the position they’d fallen into, Peter’s stomach growls. Wade’s growls almost immediately after, as if in response.

 

They burst out laughing, clutching one another until the stomach spasms stop and Peter finally decides to retrieve Wade’s phone from the kitchen. He curls back up on Wade to make the call.

 

They only stand up again when the food arrives, and it’s only for the amount of time it takes to get to the door and then back to the couch. Peter feels giddy the whole night, not even sure how he’s supposed to sleep when the alternative is being enveloped in Wade’s body and kissed and snuggled until his skin is alight with satisfied nerve endings.

 

Wade’s hands have a rougher texture thanks to the myriad of scars, and it makes all the little hairs on his body stand up when they stroke over his legs, shaky and reverent.

 

“We should talk about...stuff,” Wade says some time later, into the quiet of the apartment. They’ve eaten too much and all but melted together on the couch. 

 

“In the morning,” Peter tells him, nuzzling into his neck.

 

He knows there are things to discuss, reassurances he must give to make sure that Wade knows this is real, but for now he just wants to feel him, to bask in the happiness and fear that comes from a love like this, deep and dangerous and lovely in only the way an ocean can be.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Peter wakes up to the smell of pancakes. At some point he’d been carried to bed, and he can’t help but grin into the pillow. He stretches languidly before padding his way to the kitchen, where Wade is in sweatpants and his apron.

 

This morning will be the first lazy, cozy morning of many. Peter can see it unfold before him in the motion of Wade’s shoulders while he cooks, humming a little tune in the warm afternoon sunlight.

 

* * *

They spend the rest of Peter’s Spring Break watching romantic comedies, making out, patrolling, necking, eating, kissing, talking, rinsing and repeating.

 

Peter pulls Wade into the shower with him, intending to get a little frisky, to show Wade this isn’t just a romantic attraction (he can see that thought forming behind Wade’s eyes sometimes) but their kisses are soft and molten and slow under the warm spray. Peter’s heartbeat picks up when Wade’s leg slips between his, heat pulsing in his lower stomach, but he hesitates to press his hips down to grind himself against the powerful thigh there. 

 

He knows maybe he’s being a little bit of a coward again, but it’s all so languorous and somehow devout that he feels he might spoil the mood if he ups the ante. Wade touches him like he’s something precious, slow and purposeful and so, so soft.

 

It builds like this, until the sun sets on them, until Wade is hard against his thigh but still whispering dopey, appreciative nothings and Peter is quietly throbbing between his own.

 

They talk until it’s dark and then beyond, their voices joining together as if not quite part of their bodies, intangible in the universe. Peter feels less alone than he can ever remember feeling. He doesn’t feel like Spider-man, or even truly like Peter Parker, he feels like neither, or some odd combination of both without pronunciation. A him without performance.

 

He feels homesick for a time he hadn’t been so scared, where he’d had and given this earlier.

 

“Ugh, we could have been kissing like this for months,” Peter bemoans, then mumbles something about making up for lost time against Wade’s mouth.

 

* * *

 

They call MJ together after a few days of endless kisses and touches and whispers.

 

“Guess what, puddin’ cup?” is Wade’s contribution, a wide and winning smile stretched across his face. Peter could have sworn he’d figured out how to word this before they made the call, but he still stumbles a bit over the words. 

 

“Wade and I, well, we -”

 

“Fucking  _ finally, _ ” MJ interrupts. “I was wondering when you too losers would get your shit together. Wade, did you buy what I suggested?”

 

“What?” Peter’s eyebrows raise, instantly curious. “What did you suggest?”

 

“There’s a pic in the messages.”   
  


“Uh, wait,” Wade starts, growing sheepish. Peter is already putting her on speaker and beginning to flip over to messages, recent contacts, then under Pothead Journalist. Peter snorts as Wade continues to ramble, trying to snatch his phone back. “Get it? Mary Jane? I bet she is a pothead too, all those artist types are - wait,  _ wait, _ I’m not sure that’s really appropriate, you taught me that word, Petey-Pie, this is very new to us, and that shit is hella advanced -”

 

Peter’s eyes go wide, ears growing hot.

 

“ _ Wade,  _ holy crap, what - MJ! You sent that to him on  _ Christmas? _ ”

 

“What can I say,” She answers dryly. “I thought it might put you in the holiday spirit.”

 

* * *

 

On the second to last evening before school starts again, they’re nearing the end of their patrol when Peter decides to bring something up he’d been curious about for a while now. It had been weeks since he’d happened across the items while rummaging through the heap of clothes in Wade’s closet for something to wear, and it hadn’t felt right to ask then.

 

“You know,” Peter tells Wade, half conversational and half provocative. “I saw the dress and heels in your closet. You haven’t told me anything about that.”

 

Wade’s eyes go wide. “They - they aren’t Vanessa’s!”

 

Peter grins. “I know. Even if they were, I mean, that isn’t so weird. Don’t be so defensive!”

 

“I’m not! I thought you were jealous. I’d be jealous if you...” Wade trails off, eyes growing shifty.

 

It doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut, like Peter was expecting for it to. It does come with a wave of nostalgia, and he feels his eyes prickle hotly, but he doesn’t burst into tears or shout.

 

“I don’t have any items of Gwen’s clothing,” Peter tells him gently, leaning his head against Wade’s shoulder. “Just a letter she wrote me when we graduated from high school.”

 

“Gwen,” Wade repeats quietly. “Your…”

 

“My ex,” Peter confirms, “We weren’t dating when she died, but we were still close.”

 

This wasn’t how he imagined telling Wade, but it feels right. He feels at peace with it, in fact, and he’d never expected to. The pang of guilt is still palpable, it’s not like he’s completely healed, but it’s been almost three years now, and he’s learned so much about himself in that time. He knows Gwen wouldn’t want him to be held back by losing her, that she wouldn’t blame him.

 

She’d probably call him an idiot for not talking to Wade about her sooner, in fact.

 

“You don’t have to,” Wade says, rubbing his back.

 

“I know. I don’t think now is the time, it’s kind of a long story,” Peter admits, his throat beginning to tighten as the clocktower looms in the corner of his vision. “But I do want to tell you about her sometime. I want you to know, like you told me about Vanessa, just...another day.”

 

Wade nods, rubbing a warm hand up and down Peter’s back.

 

Peter clears his throat, “...So about the dress and heels?”

 

“Oh,” Wade seems to remember what got them on the tangent in the first place. “That’s mine.”

 

“It did look your size,” Peter ducks his head into Wade’s shoulder, smiling softly. He plays with the strap that holds Wade’s katana, Bea, idly. “Do you want to tell me about it? Or -?”

 

“Sometimes I feel like dressing up,” Wade tells him easily, wrapping a strong arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “I haven’t examined it much, just...whenever I feel like it. Some days, I feel. I don’t know, I wouldn’t say I ‘ _ feel like a woman _ ’ even though that is a  _ classic _ song, but I’m not even sure what that would mean, y’know? Not even sure I feel like a man, most days. I just feel like me, and some days I feel like me in sweatpants and other days I feel like me in a dress. Not sure I’d ever want to like, change my pronouns or anything - I’m probably not making sense.”

 

Peter presses a masked kiss to Wade’s similarly masked cheek.

 

“You are,” Peter tells him. “I like it.”

 

“Me making sense, my ambiguous lack of gender slash gender fluidity, or my strappy red dress and matching pumps?”

 

“Both,” Peter snickers. “Hey, you ever feel like you,  _ naked? _ ”

 

Wade gives a little growl, squeezes Peter’s backside, and spends the next hour of patrol grumbling about how far away they are from either one of their apartments.

 

* * *

 

That night they get to Wade’s apartment and barely make it through the window before their masks are off and they’re kissing one another. Wade slides his arms around Peter’s waist and lifts him, pressing him to the well to keep him level and reaching down to take a more serious handful of Peter’s ass than he could while patrolling. Peter sucks in his breath and let’s it shudder out of him and into Wade’s mouth.

 

The back of his knee hits the arm of the couch and his stomach twists a bit. He breaks to pant against Wade’s jawline, talking himself down. He knows it’s not orange and he knows the walls aren’t blue. He knows where he is, and who he’s with, and he’s not letting anyone else intrude.

 

“Bed,” is all Peter has to say when he gathers his wits, and then Wade is all but carrying him there, each of them peeling off their suits between needy kisses.

 

“Tonight, I just,” Wade murmurs against his ear, mouthing a line down his neck all the while.  “ _ really  _ wanna eat you out.”

 

A shiver runs through Peter’s body. All the way through it, like damn.

 

“Is that the right way to say it?” Wade asks before Peter can formulate an answer, which doesn’t really make sense at first to Peter’s muddled brain. “Like, should I say  _ suck you off _ or maybe -”

 

“The way you said it’s fine!” Peter cuts him off, sure his face is beet red.

 

“I’ve been thinking about it for fuckin’ ages,” Wade tells him, his voice somewhere between a rumble and a whine. His own cheeks are dusted with color too, his eyes burning. 

 

Peter forgets to answer when Wade presses him down onto the bed.

 

“Okay, baby boy?”

 

“Guh,” Peter breathes, his words and wits slipping again. “Yeah.”

 

Wade kisses him again, bites Peter’s lip and keeps it there between his teeth for a moment before moving on. He kisses down his neck, leaves bitemarks and hickies there that Peter wishes wouldn’t be gone within the hour, his hands sliding over his sides and tightening on the curve of his hips, the meat of his thighs, then his calves.

 

Wade slips between his legs and then slides his hands under Peter’s thighs, between them, he can’t help how they’re trembling. He pushes them open, rough hands moving softly yet firmly, then hiking his legs up over his shoulders. He plants a kiss to Peter’s knee, then his inner thigh.

 

Then he opens his mouth to plant an open-mouthed kiss further up and  _ bites. _

 

Peter sucks in a breath sharply, aroused and ticklish, a nervous laugh bubbling out of him.

 

“Good?” Wade asks, and all Peter can see is the intensity of his blue eyes peering up at him from between his legs. Peter nods, and a moment later he’s gasping at the first swipe of hot tongue.

 

“Ghn,” is all Peter manages to get out, the last of whatever words he’d had fading away into the heated mist of his mind. 

 

Wade’s hands cup his backside and then smooth inward while he works, tongue drawing confident lines up and down the slit of him. Peter can feel himself getting more and more slick with every pass. Wade’s thumbs stroke the folds of him and then spread him open even more

 

“Fffuuu - hnnngh.” Peter keens, toes curling on either side of Wade as he tenses all over. He can’t even hear himself over the sensory overload, his blood rushing in his ears.

 

In fairness, Peter has every intention of reciprocating when he’s done. But the problem is when he comes, clutching Wade’s wrist for dear life and gasping through overwhelmed little sounds, Wade only slows down to ring the aftermath out of him. Then when his shuddering has stopped, he starts up again in earnest, lifting Peter higher still and soon into another orgasm.

 

He only breaks for a moment to groan, “Fuck, you’re cute when you come.”

 

Wade laps at his clit until it’s swollen and hypersensitive, until his thighs are clamping on his head. He clutches at the sheets and his hips are rock onto him his tongue, stuck somewhere between bucking toward the pressure and shying away. He comes again like that, and then again shortly after, until he’s a quivering mess and the sheets are more than a little damp below him.

 

Peter’s mind is buzzing with warmth as he recovers. Wade moves up to hold him, mumbling sweet and sexy nothings into his ear until, before Peter can stop it, he’s dozed off against him.

 

* * *

 

After Peter returns to his apartment after his third day back to school, he finds Wade already inside and cooking dinner. It smells delicious, and Peter greets him pleasantly, hugging him from behind and kissing his shoulder. It only takes him another moment to realize something is wrong, because even though Wade turns to kiss him back, his entire demeanor is mopey.

 

Peter frowns and pets a hand over Wade’s head. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I dreamt that you were cheating on me, with like, three different people. It was so _real._ ”

 

“Uh. Well...I’m not,” Peter states slowly, blinking several times. “When would I even have time to do that? We spend all our time together, unless I’m at work or school.”

 

“I know, I  _ know. _ I let it ruin my whole day. The boxes weren’t letting me live it down or think of anything else." Wade sighs and planting his face on the counter briefly, but hard enough for it to make a  _thud._  I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re not stupid,” Peter tells him, kissing his forehead and sighing. “Things will get better with time, but you should know I’m not going anywhere. Or out with anyone else.”

 

Wade rubs at his eyes and mumbles pathetically. “The worst part? They wouldn’t even agree to show me naughty pictures. Can you imagine the  _ audacity _ ?”

 

Peter huffs, “Oh my god, you’re  _ fine." _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~<3<3<3


	17. we can be the softer things

“Hey, baby boy, are you on the last chapter?”

 

“Uh, no, I just opened this book like, an hour ago. You saw me start it, you  _ know _ this. Why are you laughing? Is this one of your weird - you know what, I’m not gonna bite. Stop laughing, I'm _r_ _ eading. _ ”

 

* * *

 

“Can you pick up flour on your way home?”

 

“Didn’t we  _ just _ get some? I seem to remember swinging home with it in my backpack less than a week ago.”

 

“There was an incident.”

 

“...Wade, is the apartment covered in flour?”

 

“We can just move out. It’s time we moved in with each other anyway, right? I was just thinking about it the other day, in fact, and I think it’s an opportune time to bring it -”

 

“You’re just trying to distract me. This is not the time for that step!”

 

“If there was ever a time, I think this would be -”

 

“No.”

 

“...Fiiiiiine, I’ll get the mop.”

 

* * *

 

“Aunt May, you can’t just ask about wedding rings every time you see us. It’s embarrassing.”

 

“I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

 

“Yes, I know, you aren’t going back in time.”

 

“Don’t sass me.”

 

“Yeah, Peter, don’t sass her,  _ jeez. _ ”

 

“You always take her side!”

 

“She makes me cookies, and I’m more scared of her than I am of you.”

 

“Smart boy.”

 

“ _ Aunt May.” _

 

* * *

 

“I think we should go to therapy.”

 

“Wait a second, you’re the one suggesting this? Mr. I’ve-killed-so-many-therapists-so-I-know-how-shit-they-are?”

 

“No one has ever called me that before, baby boy. Merc with a Mouth is a little catchier.”

 

“I’m not a perfect person. So, therapy. Why? Is this a prelude to breaking up with me? Just want to pretend to get help first to assuage your guilt, or -”

 

“What! As if. You’re gonna break up with me.”

 

“We’ve been over this - I’m very happy with you. Pretty sure I said  _ I love you  _ the other day.”

 

“And I love you too. But I dunno. Ever since you told me about, you know,  _ all the stuff, _ I’ve been wondering if maybe I shouldn’t reevaluate my stance on all therapy as a whole. Made me think of my own shit too, which is buried even deeper than yours maybe, beneath all the cancer and scar tissue, probs. Just because a shit ton of them are in the profession for the wrong reason...I mean, statistically, I probably just heard about the worst of the worst.”

 

“That was kind of your whole deal.”

 

“Yeah. So. Whatchu think, babe? You wanna go talk about tough shit with a stranger who’s sworn to secrecy to try to like, improve our mental well-being or whatever?”

 

“Did you read that somewhere?”   
  


“Pete.”

 

“...Yeah, we could give it a shot.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you’re still with this nerd.”

 

“MJ, you’ve known me since pre-school, what the heck?”

 

“Yeah, so I know what a gigantic nerd you are, and Wade just seems too cool for you.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“You were totally shipping us, Weedie McGhee, don’t hide your love of Peter behind a facade of casual indifference. I know you’d rip me into tiny pieces me if I broke his heart.”

 

“Yeah, his giant, nerdy heart.”

 

“I didn’t deny it. He’s such a dweeb. Readin’ books, learnin’ and shit, for  _ fun. _ ”

 

“I hate both of you guys.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe we  _ both  _ get to be groomsman at Captain America’s wedding! This is going to be the best day of my life.”

 

“Really. The best day. Someone else’s wedding.”

 

“...Take backsies.”

 

“You know I’m only joking. But actually not, a little.”

 

“Oooh, scary Spidey. Me likey.”

 

“Uh, no, don’t say that.”

 

“Right-o. So do you think they’re wedding colors will be red, white, and blue? Because on one hand,  _ kitsch,  _ but on the other,  _ how can they not,  _ y’know?”

 

* * *

 

“Eddie is coming into town next week.”

 

“Oh boy! We can team up with them and have an ultra game of tag! As long as they won’t get too worked up and eat me. Or, you know what? I’m cool with it. Let’s risk it.”

 

“Ha ha, please don’t let Venom eat you for shits and giggles.”

 

“Fiiiiiine. But they’d enjoy it so much! It’d be like a gift. Do they have a birthday? Or maybe just for Christmas, it is coming up soon, so -”

 

“ _ Wade! _ ”

 

“You’re right, I probably taste terrible anyway.”

 

“Pretty sure I know how you taste at this point, and I wouldn’t say that.”

 

* * *

 

“I have a confession to make.”

 

“...Oooookieeeee? That’s usually a no good preface, so please talk quick, baby boy.”

 

“I ate all the onion rings on the way home.”

 

“ _ What. _ ”

 

“I know.”

 

“How  _ dare _ . Et tu, Brute?”

 

“I don’t know what to say. There’s no excuse, except that they smelled so good, and it’s not like I was in my suit, so I had to  _ walk _ home, and they don’t even reheat well. Will you ever forgive me?”

 

“Yeah, but the boxes might not. They’re planning a revolt as we speak.”

 

“Oh,  _ no _ .”

 

“Nah, it’s cool, they got distracted by that pouty look on your face and their back to wanting to kiss you all over, like, aggressively. We’ll just get two orders next time.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a Wednesday, like many previous and many to come, meaningless and meaningful all at once. 

 

There are birds chattering and the sound of traffic below them and the endless noise that comes with too many people in one place. Looking down on the end of day hustle to get home is like stepping on an anthill and watching the horde scurry.

 

The city presses a hard outline to the glow of the setting sun as a siren pierces through the quiet. 

 

The fingers laced with Wade’s gently pull away as they stand at the ready, looking to each other the moment before they move. Before long, they’re flying through the buildings, catching the attention of the masses as Wade woops and Peter laughs. Each of them are filled with the thrill of adrenaline, so that when they reach the scene of the crime, they lunge directly into action, at their best together.

 

The world has not been and will not always be soft, but a love like this can dull the edges, with time and care, with a willingness to bend.

 

[ _ Having someone that matters means we can’t just disappear _ .]

 

[[ _ We have to put like, effort into being better people and stuff. God, it’s so much work.]] _

 

 _Yeah,_ Wade agrees with the boxes, grinning a bit maniacally mid-fight, _I guess_ _we’re fucked._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end~ <3 this fic has been a delight to write and i loved reading each and every one of your comments.


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